


Donquixote Jonagold

by Emerschaly



Category: One Piece
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Romance, F/M, Grand Line, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Time Skip, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Tags Are Hard, autumn island, explicit - Freeform, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerschaly/pseuds/Emerschaly
Summary: After his defeat at Dressrosa, Doflamingo arrives on an unfamiliar island and attempts to start over.
Relationships: Donquixote Doflamingo/Original Character(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished the Dressrosa arc and I'm in love with Doflamingo. He's a monster but such a great villian! I started writing little snippets and it kinda sorta spiraled out of control. I hope I'm doing his character justice - story will most likely be edited as I get further into the series. Probably will be slow to update cuz life. Tags will be updated as story progresses.
> 
> Disclaimer: Story contains original characters on an original island, but all canonical One Piece characters and plot belong to Oda-sensei. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The heavy sea prism stone cuffs clanked loudly as Doflamingo shuffled along towards the bow of the ship, scrubbing a mop halfheartedly as he went. With every other step he grimaced. He had become accustomed to the weight and draining effect the damned stones had on him. But his ankles and wrists were rubbed raw.

He had given up trying to hide the pain-ridden look on his face a long time ago - his sores had sores, never having the chance to heal. Even when he was locked up in his personal Sea Prism holding cell, the Navy didn't trust him enough to not attempt to break out, so they never removed the cuffs.

Even now they didn't trust him - the squad of guards who followed a close distance behind kept their guns trained on him.

_Bastards,_ he thought. 

The Navy had determined that Doflamingo's punishment would be to forever go back and forth between cleaning prison ships that came to Impel Down and rotting mindlessly in a cell on the sixth level. It was not the most creative, but it wounded his pride more than anything when he had to clean out the lavatories aboard the giant ships that had been out to sea for months at a time.

Donquixote Doflamingo was not meant to be cleaning other people's shitters.

"Alright," one of the guards barked. "Break time."

One of the men lifted their foot to stomp down on the thick chain that connected Doflamingo's legs together. As the chain became taut, he stumbled forward. He jammed the mop harder into the deck to steady himself. Splinters gouged into his palms and he hissed.

The men didn't make the mistake of laughing, but he could see the smug smirks on their faces as one brought over another cuff and chain. They clamped the new addition to his left wrist and tugged, forcing him to follow through a narrow gap between a couple of large crates. The guard attached the other end to the deck railing. Another guard took the mop from him, purposefully ignoring the blood dripping from the top of the handle.

Doflamingo remained stone-faced as they worked, staring at his bloodied hands. Vaguely, he wished he still had his sunglasses. At least then he could create some more distance between himself and his mocking captors as they smirked at his misfortune.

Thankfully they never dared to look him in the eye.

It had happened. Once. During the first few days he’d been locked up, a guard had made the mistake of watching for a reaction as he’d mocked Doflamingo. They had been transferring him from one cell to another - trying to isolate him from other prisoners who had a habit of talking amongst themselves about what was happening out in the world. The Navy had been determined to keep every bit of information away from him. They hadn’t even permitted old Vice Admiral Tsuru to bring him even a scrap of a newspaper - she claimed that she had been searched before every visit, but he knew that wasn’t true. Thinking that it would be clever to tell him an obvious lie just to rile him, the guard had tried to tell Doflamingo that Straw Hat had taken up the kingship of Dressrosa after beating him, and that his Family were now his subordinates.

Doflamingo had strangled the man to death with his chains.

"See you after lunch, _Mingo_ ," the guard holding the mop drawled. Doflamingo inwardly bristled at the nickname that Straw Hat had bestowed on him. He stifled any outward emotion - he refused to let them see how much that name enraged him. There was nothing he could do about it.

_Yet._ He growled to himself. 

After the men had left, Doflamingo laboriously lowered himself down to the deck. The weight of the chains spitefully forced him down the last few inches with a loud thud. The wooden crates that surrounded him were high enough that he couldn’t see over them. The chain connecting his wrist was shorter than the others. A tired sigh escaped his lips as his arm remained partially aloft. 

Magellan wouldn’t be pleased to find out that his subordinates allowed him to rest. That giant devil absolutely enjoyed the screams he could draw from Doflamingo when he tortured him with his poisons. But whenever the man needed a break from torturing or keeping watch at the foot of his cell, he would pass off Doflamingo to go clean a new warship that had arrived. Enough time had passed since he’d been first incarcerated that the guards had become somewhat lenient and left him alone like this. They apparently didn’t think that he could go anywhere even if he did get free from his bonds as the prison was surrounded by the sea on all sides. There were never any clouds in the sky when they brought him up from the sixth level, so escape would be impossible unless Doflamingo could manage one of the great warships on his own. 

A thought made him smirk. Perhaps, if he did ever get free, a Navy crew would be happy to escort him away from the prison, with a little persuasion from his Parasite strings.

He had to figure out how to get free first.

Doflamingo crossed his legs, wincing a bit at the way his muscles complained at the stiff movement. He didn’t bother to swipe the fringe of his too-long bangs from his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he had been locked up - he’d never bothered to count the passing days - but it had been long enough for his close-cropped blond hair to have become shaggy. 

He felt drained. Hollow, almost.

Weak.

Staring at the bloodied palm in his lap, Doflamingo idly wondered what had happened to the executives of his makeshift crime Family. The faces of the crew of blood-thirsty weirdos that he’d surrounded himself with flashed through his mind’s eye: Diamante, Trebol, Pica, Señor Pink, Gladius, Dellinger, Baby 5, Buffalo and all the rest. Images of them smashed and broken by the Straw Hats and the citizens of Dressrosa.

He hadn't been allowed to see any of the daily papers the News Coos brought to Impel Down. When he was aboard a ship cleaning he could catch a glimpse of a newspaper in a sailor's hands, but he was always too far away to make anything out. If he’d had his sunglasses, it wouldn’t have been an issue to spy - he was somewhat nearsighted without the prescription lenses.

Had his Family been committed to a worse punishment than he had? Were they stuck somewhere within the bowels of Impel Down as well? He had no way of knowing. The Navy made good on their promise of keeping Doflamingo well out of sight and earshot of the other prisoners that he knew were locked up all around him. The isolation was excruciating at times. When he was exhausted just enough, it almost seemed as if he were the only inmate buried within this hell hole.

It was a terrifying to be alone with his thoughts.

Glancing back behind him to the other side of the enclosed port, he took in the giant Navy warships crammed against each other. Just beyond them lay the inner gates, looming in the distance. He hoped that none of his Family were here. He knew of the tortures that awaited most prisoners on the many levels of the great prison. Doflamingo wouldn't wish that on any of them, despite how their failures had caused them to all be captured.

His failures most of all.

_Damn that Straw Hat,_ he glowered for not the first time. But the thought held only a mere wisp of the usual fury. Normally the very thought of Monkey D. Luffy was enough to spike his blood pressure. But the tell-tale veins in his forehead remained invisible. Doflamingo was just too exhausted, by everything, to care about the meddling Gum-Gum Devil Fruit user.

Losing himself to his swirling thoughts, Doflamingo felt his eyelids grow as heavy as the chains binding him. He struggled with his body’s insatiable demand for rest now that he’d been given the chance - he didn’t want to give the guards any more ammunition for abuse if they caught him sleeping upon their return. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly since the day he was captured. After years of meager silence, the nightmares had come back full force. There hadn’t been a single night since he arrived at the prison that he’d slept peacefully.

It was exhausting, putting up an insurmountable front.

After what seemed to be both a lifetime and only a few moments, Doflamingo jolted to awareness as the deck lazily pitched beneath him. He rapidly blinked at the harsh sunlight shining overhead. He could see clouds crawling high through the air, which made his breath catch. How could there be clouds in the Calm Belt? His arm that was chained to the railing began to tingle painfully as he shifted to a kneeling position, blood running back into the appendage.

Had he fallen asleep? 

For how long?

Slowly becoming accustomed to the bright light, Doflamingo turned his head to discern what was going on. He felt his jaw unhinge, eyes widening, as he took in the vast expanse of shining blue water that reached to the horizon and beyond.

The sea.

Lurching to his feet, a painfully confused sound escaped his throat, staring dumbfounded at the ocean. He looked fore and aft, bewildered. This had to be a dream. There was nothing but water in front of and behind the warship. He turned to cast a wild look over his shoulder, thinking in his slight delirium that he could see the opposite side of the ship to confirm that he was surrounded by the open sea, but the dark teal panelling of the main cabins blocked his view.

A flurry of sounds assaulted his ears - waves caused from the wake of the ship moving through the water, seagulls swirling overhead, footsteps crossing back and forth amidships, commanders barking orders to their underlings.

Doflamingo turned towards the railing, pitching forward as he gazed down at the activity of the Marines bustling about the lower deck.

He stared, absolutely dumbstruck, at the crisp white uniforms. At the brilliant blue water. At the utter openness that he found himself surrounded by. He was out to sea, chained to the deck of a Navy warship, with the infamous underwater prison nowhere in sight.

A slight tremor overtook him.

_How?_

There was a sudden noise off to his left. A choking gasp. Doflamingo cast a bewildered look towards the sound, still not entirely believing what he was seeing.

A short Marine with a close-cropped dark beard had collapsed backwards. His Adam’s apple worked desperately and his eyes bulged. Doflamingo felt his own brow draw up in confusion. If he hadn’t spent the last…however long it had been…locked up, tortured, and forced to clean up hundreds of Navy ships, he might have been able to see the humor of the situation. The sight of a huge, ragged prisoner looking stupidly out at the ocean, that someone somewhere had forgotten about, still chained to the deck where they’d left him, hidden by the crates that surrounded him.

Doflamingo felt his body start to shake. But he wasn’t sure if it was from an unbidden laugh or hunger and crippling mental fatigue. Perhaps it was both.

“You-you-your’re you’re D-d-d-d! Dofla! You’re DOFLAMINGO!”

The sailor’s final word ripped from his choking throat in a scream. Doflamingo almost flinched at the sudden sound. The ship went eerily silent. As if a thousand men were suddenly holding their breath.

A soft murmur of voices tempered the silence. The sensation of hundreds of pairs of eyes on him caused Doflamingo to look down past the railing he to which he was fastened. All of the Marines that had been going about their former business had halted dead in their tracks, staring up at him. Their expressions ranged from confusion, to horror, to anger. He saw quite a few angry faces. Some with rage-fueled tears spilling from their eyes.

_Well,_ he thought stupidly, _I have killed a lot of people._

The scene before him caused an unwanted memory to surface in his mind’s eye. A memory of a sea of people and fire below him, angry cries and screams being hurled at him as he and his father and brother had been tortured for being former Celestial Dragons. Doflamingo grimaced and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory that plagued him like a disease.

A large figure moved purposefully through the frozen crowd below, catching his attention. The long coat of a Vice Admiral flapped in the wake of the sailor’s advance, the sound snapping back the focus of more than a few Marines, several of which who abruptly stood at attention.

“Well, well, well,” came a drawling deep voice. “What do we have here? That’s quite the dashing look for you, Donquixote Doflamingo.”

Doflamingo stared down at the man. He didn’t recognize this Vice Admiral. But then again, there were so damn many of them it was hard to keep track with the turnover rate.

Being met with no response, the hugely bearded man crossed his beefy arms. Scars crisscrossed his forearms in an angry pattern.

“How did you get aboard my ship, pirate?”

Doflamingo pulled lightly at the chain binding him to the railing. “I was just here to clean. But it seems that my guards took too long on their lunch break.”

The Vice Admiral grimaced. He muttered something about idiots.

Glancing at the sailor who was still sputtering beside him, Doflamingo called down, “I suppose you’ll be cutting your voyage short and take me back to Impel Down.”

The Vice Admiral huffed. “Eventually, yes, but not right now.”

Doflamingo perked up at that. They weren’t going back immediately? The wheels started to slowly turn in his mind. “Some important mission you have going on, then?”

The bearded man’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know, pirate.” He turned on his heel and began barking orders. “Someone go get a damn key and lock the prisoner up in a holding cell! The one for Devil Fruit users, not the normal stockades - I don’t need a damn former Shichibukai running amuck on my ship. And someone get Impel Down on a Transponder Snail! Tell them that we have something important of theirs!”

The men below scrambled to fulfill the new orders. Doflamingo watched, feeling the exhaustion that plagued him searching for a better hold. He heard a group of thundering footsteps ascend to the upper deck where he stood. There was a tinkling of a golden key. Several pairs of hands took rough holds onto his arms, a handful of rifle barrels pressed into his back.

“Come on!” One of the Marines barked at him, tugging on the chain between his hands and forcing him forward. 

They led him down belowdecks, away from the sunlight, towards another cage. He could smell the hateful scent of sea prism stone pouring from the bars, assaulting his nose in the way it only did to those who had eaten a Devil Fruit. The sailors roughly pushed him inside of the cell. His legs buckled and he collapsed in a heap in the middle of the cage.

“Hope you’re comfortable, _your majesty_ ,” one of the sailors sneered as they locked up the cell. Something small and dense was thrown at Doflamingo. It bounced off his shoulder, rolling to a stop a short distance from where he lay. It was a clump of bread, now dusty from the floor. He stared at it as he listened to the footsteps and guffaws drift away.

Eventually, Doflamingo gathered enough strength to force himself up onto his hands and knees. He reached for the chunk of bread, then fell back to the floor on his stomach. He slowly rolled himself over onto his back. There was a single port hole at the back of the cell, sunlight shining through like a promise.

His cell back at Impel Down had no light whatsoever.

He lifted the dusty bread to his open mouth. It was stale. But his mouth still watered and he tried to savor the taste as carefully and slowly as his emaciated stomach would allow. It had been so long since he’d had so much food.

_I’ll remember this,_ he thought as he ate, pieces of bread getting stuck in his throat that he forced down with hard swallows. 

_I’ll remember all of you fuckers. And I’ll make sure all of you pay._


	2. Chapter 2

Doflamingo allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep once the bread was gone. These sailors left him alone for the most part, unlike his keepers at Impel Down, who would bang mercilessly on the bars of his cell whenever he tried to rest. That was perhaps the best explanation as to why he didn’t sleep like the dead. He was waiting for the interruption that he had been conditioned to expect the second his eyes closed. 

That and the nightmares that awaited him.

Occasionally a sailor would walk by the door and peer in at him, maybe hurl an insult at him from the safety of the bars, but that was it. No one entered the cell. No one screamed and tried to beat him. Every footfall, however, was enough to rouse Doflamingo from his pitiful sleep like an anxious bird. When he wasn’t dozing, he absently picked at the splinters still stuck in his hands. It was a painful pastime - they were lodged deep under the skin now, and his fingernails were nothing but numbs. By the time he had the fat splinters free and collected into a neat pile, his hands were a bloody mess again. He gripped his palms against his knees on his striped pant legs to staunch the bleeding.

The light from outside the port hole slowly began to fade. With each passing slip into unconsciousness, it got darker and darker. Having no idea what time it was, Doflamingo at first assumed it was simply the day passing into night. Gradually, however, he felt the faintly familiar prickle of electricity on his skin. When he at last opened his eyes again, he realized that the hair on his forearms was standing on end. His head lifted from the wooden floor to squint up at the port hole. The sky was an angry swirl of dark clouds.

A bad storm was coming.

As he thought this, an alarm bell somewhere amidships rang out. Footsteps thundered throughout the decking overhead and shouts from all over the ship could be heard. Doflamingo pushed himself up as the meager light in the cell suddenly went pitch black.

A hot white flash burned across the sky on the other side of the port hole. The whole cell illuminated in an instant, the bolt of lightning searing an afterimage to the backs of Doflamingo’s eyes, blinding him momentarily. An angry boom of thunder crashed through the sky the instant everything went dark again. Rain pelted the glass. More lightning flashed and Doflamingo felt his stomach pitch and roll suddenly with the ship.

This was going to be a very bad storm. Doflamingo vaguely hoped that the giant warship would survive long enough to take him back to Impel Down. The last thing he wanted was to die in that hell hole, but it was somewhat preferable to drowning.

He resolutely laid down on his side, drawing his long legs up towards his chest, chains clanking. There was nothing he could do but wait for the storm to dissipate. Or for the Navy dogs to get them the hell out of this shit show. A strained laugh bubbled up from his chest.

Listening to the wind and rain and deafening thunder, Doflamingo could make out the cries of the Marines overhead. They were trying to get the main mast furled and not having an easy time of it. Somewhere things were toppling over and rolling about, not having been securely fastened beforehand.

Suddenly, the ship pitched dangerously to one side. Doflamingo gasped as the floor beneath him went nearly vertical, sending him sliding into the bars of the cell door with an awful bang. His shoulders bruised instantly with the impact and he hissed in pain. Thankfully there wasn’t anything else in the cell with him. He had been on plenty of ships in situations like this and had seen many men crushed to death by unsecured barrels and crates.

Screams came from behind him, in the direction that used to be above him. If he stood, he would be standing on the bars of his cell. Like the caged animal he was, Doflamingo jerked on the sea prism stone chains that bound his hands and feet. If he were free and able to use his Devil Fruit powers, he’d be much more at ease in the tragedy that he sensed was about to happen. He could see it clearly in his mind’s eye - the warship tossed on its side like a toy in a child’s bathtub, horrendous mountains of waves crashing down and forcing her mercilessly to the bottom of the Grand Line.

He had seen it happen before. To enemy ships unfortunate enough to get outpaced by one of the devilish storms that plagued the great sea. While he had witnessed it happen before his very eyes, he didn’t much enjoy the thought of becoming a casualty.

Gripping the bars beneath him, Doflamingo looked down into the hold, searching frantically in the intermittent lightning flashes. The howling wind wasn’t enough to drown out the howling of the terrified men belowdecks, who only screamed louder to drown out the terror that was befalling their mates topside.

The ship rolled again. Doflamingo had to force himself to keep a firm grip on the cell bars that sapped at what little strength he had left. The floor came almost back to its former position beneath his feet, the crashing tempest tossing the giant boat about in a terrifying fashion.

Several bodies came running past the cell. All of them Marines rushing towards the ladder heading up to the main deck. Blindly, Doflamingo shoved an arm out and managed to snag a man running by. He pulled the figure roughly towards the bars and the man gave a startled yelp as his face banged into them.

“Wha- who-?” The sailor began to stammer a question.

“Get me out of here.” Doflamingo hissed into the man’s face. The chains on Doflamingo’s wrists clanged dangerously. He ignored the throbbing pain in his hand as he clenched his fist tighter around the sailor’s collar.

The frightened Marine swallowed. In the flashes of light, Doflamingo could see a remnant of the honed training the man had undergone struggle to come back to him. His brows furrowed, an attempt at a stern expression. But he only looked terrified.

“You’re crazy! I’m not letting a monster like you out of there!” The man whimpered, the words not holding the resolute bite he’d obviously been hoping for. He was just a man, after all.

“Get me out of here,” Doflamingo repeated, pulling the man closer into the bars. He could see the whites of his terrified eyes. He forced a grin, not caring if it scared the Marine even more than he already was. He shook his free fist, the sea prism stone chain clanking amid the thunderclaps. “I can use my Devil Fruit powers to right the ship and keep her afloat. But I need these off.”

“You can do that?” The Marine asked in awe, forgetting momentarily that Doflamingo was his enemy.

Stone-faced, Doflamingo said simply, “I don’t want to die out here anymore than you.”

Eyes shining with terrified tears, the sailor vigorously nodded. Doflamingo’s eyes widened in shock as the man started crying and pulled a single golden key from the inside of his shirt. With shaking hands, the man reached into the cell and unlocked first the manacles latched onto Doflamingo’s wrists, and then his ankles.

The whole time, Doflamingo kept a hand on the sailor’s collar, shocked with disbelief that this was actually happening. When the sailor went to open the cell door, he released the man, shoving him away. The shackles fell from his body as the door swung open wide with a shrieking grate. The chains banged to the floor.

Instantly, Doflamingo felt a surge of energy. It was nowhere near his normal power, but he felt immensely better, weight literally lifted from his body. Hunger clawed anew at his insides as his energy spiked. He raised a shaking free hand to his face, his fingers brushing past his agape mouth.

He was free.

Another forceful wave battered into the flank of the ship. Doflamingo stumbled forward into the sailor who had freed him. The man caught him, or at least tried to not be crushed beneath him, then grabbed him by the sleeve of his tattered prison uniform, pulling him towards the ladder that led to the upper-deck.

“Come on!” The man shouted as he towed the giant Doflamingo behind him. 

Wrenching himself from the man’s grasp, he snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

“I-I’m sorry-!” The sailor started to cry out.

Cutting him off, Doflamingo growled, “I need to get topside. Hurry up.”

The sailor nodded and turned. As they scrambled up the steps, pitching to and fro with the uneven rolling of the ship, the howling of the wind became louder and louder. Breaking past the door, they were suddenly drenched by a wall of rain cascading down from the angry black sky. Doflamingo’s eyes widened in shock at the disarray around him, then immediately had to squint as the deluge drenched him.

The sails on both towering main masts were in tatters. The lashed crates that had been scattered across the deck had been washed overboard. Men clung desperately to the rigging, railings, anything that was even remotely secured to the ship to keep from being tossed into the roiling sea.

He caught sight of a billowing flash of white from the Vice Admiral’s coat as it was ripped from the man’s shoulders, disappearing into the angry dark. He was yelling at his men to get down below when he saw Doflamingo emerge from the belly of the ship. A look of confusion crossed his face before darkening with rage. He began to move towards Doflamingo and his somewhat traitorous subordinate when a huge wave crashed over the side of the ship. The rushing water knocked the Vice Admiral off his feet and he went sliding away towards the railing on the opposite side of the ship, his angry howl choked off.

The hand on Doflamingo’s sleeve tugged insistently. He looked down numbly at the man who clung to him like a small child.

“Well?! Do it! Keep the ship from going under!” He cried, the tears mixing with the deluge from the sky.

Angrily, Doflamingo jerked his arm from the sailor’s grasp - he couldn’t stand people touching him, constricting him. Especially now that he was free. The smaller man stumbled back and fell on his rear. He immediately fell into a fetal position.

Ignoring the useless Marine, Doflamingo cast a furtive look around at the dark clouds above them. With outstretched hands, he called up his powers, intending to lash as many flexible strings as he could from the thick, shifting clouds to the deck. He had done it numerous times back when his Family still sailed from one island to the next. It had been his favorite tactic for losing Marine ships that had attempted to follow them stubbornly into storms. His ship had always survived the maelstroms.

His plan, as spur of the moment as it was, was to keep the massive warship from going under. Then, once the storm had passed, he would use his Parasitic strings to control the remnants of the crew and set sail. He would decide on a course of action after he figured out where in the hell they were.

But as his fingers contorted, he couldn’t feel his strings. His wrists and ankles stung as the rain pelted the sore areas. A frustrated growl tore from his lips as he shook his hands. 

“What the hell?!”

Panic rose like bile in his throat. Why couldn’t he call up his strings? His mind raced. Could it have been a side-effect from the sea prism stone? He had never experienced his powers not working before. Being an Awakened Devil Fruit user, his powers were completely second nature to him - it was like breathing.

Now it felt as if an appendage had been abruptly cut off from the rest of his body. 

With a sinking feeling, the severity of his weakened body dawned on him as he struggled with the enormity of the task he had been given. He didn’t want to save the Marines - they would take him back to that damnable prison and he’d rot there for the rest of his life. Most likely die there. But he also did not want to die like a common sailor at sea who didn’t understand the first thing about the unpredictability of the Grand Line.

But as he looked about and desperately tried to call up enough strength to lash his strings to the roiling sky above and the ship around him, he realized that there was no way that he could keep the ship from going under. The lengthy time imprisoned by sea prism stone, prolonged torture and malnutrition had taken a devastating toll. He had never heard of a Devil Fruit user being unable to use their abilities after being exposed to the angry sea stone for too long. But, then again, anyone who had was either still incarcerated or was long since dead.

There was a nasty, loud groaning sound, followed by a series of sharp cracks. The warship shuddered beneath their feet. Doflamingo’s stomach dropped as he watched a huge fissure snaked across the deck.

Then there came a huge bolt of lightning, as if cast down on them by a spurned god, that struck the middle of the yawning crack in the ship. Everything went white and the world burst before Doflamingo’s eyes, sending him flying.

And then he felt nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the island! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!! *strangled turkey cries*

Soft, shallow waves lapped against the shoreline, tenderly pushing driftwood and other debris ashore as if in apology. The sky was a pearly gray in the predawn light, with tinges of pink and orange from the rising sun.

Jona stepped lightly down the pearly shore, carefully avoiding the chunks of debris that marred the glassy surface of the wet sand. Her breath puffed little clouds of condensation into the chilled air as she went. She clicked her tongue at the mess, brow furrowing. Whenever a bad storm rolled through she was always called in to help clean up the shores. The orchards further inland were always in need of fresh supplies, and the foremen were never ones to turn their noses up to free wood salvaged from some far off shipwreck.

Usually, if there was a ridiculous amount of wreckage floating into the little island of Autumn, a search party would be mounted to see if any survivors could be found floating on the surrounding sea. It didn’t happen often, and the inhabitants of the island never ventured too far into the Grand Line, remaining at least within eyesight of the shore.

Jona could tell from the increasing amount of debris she passed that her day off would be cut very short. There were so many huge pieces of wood, rigging and planks strewn about. There was definitely going to be an offshore search later.

Her stomach flipped, a sinking feeling taking over. She clutched the shoulder-strap of her messenger bag and readjusted the bill of her cap nervously, tucking the loose strands of her red-gold hair back underneath the hat. She could feel her fingers shaking inside her mittens but it wasn’t from the cold morning air.

_Please don’t let me find any dead bodies._

Jona jogged faster, hoping to reach her destination before the light changed too drastically. On her only day off of the week, she liked to spend her morning at her special spot at a hidden point along the leeward side breaker. There she could watch the sun rise and do her best to capture the moment with her array of paints, chalks and pastels stowed inside her bag. She could have used the early hours to catch up on much needed sleep, but the sunrise soothed her tired soul better than her lumpy old mattress.

The sandy shore gradually became more and more rocky as she approached the breaker. There was a huge formation of rocks and ancient exposed reef that created a natural barrier that extended along one whole side of Autumn Island. Slowing her pace, Jona scrambled over jagged rocks and pieces of…was that a mast? A huge tattered sail was caught between two exposed shelves of reef - a long pole, thicker than an ancient oak tree, held somewhat aloft and snapped off at the top.

Jona stopped and stared.

Where was the rest of it?

Taking first one, then another slow step past the broken mast, Jona continued towards her destination. She could see a tall outcropping of rock jutting up from the seafloor a short distance ahead. The sky was already beginning to take on an almost ghastly shade of ruby red. She needed to hurry. 

This was going to be a gorgeous sunrise.

Approaching the elevated rock, Jona pushed her bag farther onto her back to free her arms to climb. The natural hand and footholds were familiar to her from years of use, and she scrambled up to the top in no time. As she crested the breaker, a wave playfully crashed into the side and sprayed her with seawater. Brushing the droplets from her face with her mittens, she scooted close to the edge, letting her long legs dangle over the side. She placed her bag slightly behind her to protect it from any other stray waves and removed her mittens. Then she pulled out a small sketchpad and a packet of pastel sticks onto her lap.

Looking up at the reddening sky, Jona felt a blissful smile dance on her lips. The dark waves were capped in red-gold, the little glares almost blinding. The sky was alight with flushed reds, yellows, and pinks of the coming day, fading into the gray and navy of the receding night. It was so beautiful.

And this moment was all hers.

As she touched a piece of red pastel to her sketchpad, she heard a low groan.

Jona froze at the sound.

Warily, she looked down below her boots where the sound had come from. The tide hadn’t yet come in, and the rocky shoal beneath the peak of the breaker was exposed. There were more pieces of debris scattered about the pearly stones, which glistened in the early light from being soaked with water.

Jona inhaled sharply.

There, with his upper half pushed up onto the shoal and his lower half submerged in the lapping waves, was a man. His body was battered and bruised, his stripped clothing ripped to shreds, the remaining pieces barely held together. There were so many cuts on his skin that Jona couldn’t tell where one started and another began. From what she could see of his face, eyes half hidden by disheveled, stringy blond hair, he was unconscious. 

For a long moment, Jona sat frozen. Horrified. Was he breathing? Had he really made that noise? Was he dead? Was that groan just a moment ago the sound a person makes when they die?

At that moment, the man coughed once, twice, and took in a ragged breath. Wheezing. A single eyelid struggled to open, a soft flash of icy blue, before succumbing again to exhaustion and closing.

Completely forgetting about her morning plans, Jona scooted forward and swung over the edge of the breaker. In her hurry, her hands and feet just barely found purchase on the thin cracks in the sheer rock face. Really she half-climbed, half-fell to the stoney beach below. She landed in a crouch and hurried over to the man. _A giant,_ she thought, as she closed the distance. She didn’t pay attention as her sketchbook and pastels teetered on the ledge above her and fell silently into the water. Instead, she lowered herself down next to the man’s head, pushing back the dirty, seawater-encrusted hair.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Hello? Can you hear me?”

Another groan. The man twitched. She watched as he struggled to open his eyes but failed. He had absolutely no energy. His breathing was so weak.

_He’s going to die if I don’t do something._ The thought chilled Jona to the core of her being.

Mechanically, she pulled her Baby Transponder Snail from her bag. It was a small wisp of a thing, with a blue swirl on its shell, but very reliable. 

As the snail rang, she placed her palm on the man’s forehead. He was burning up. How long had he been out here? Her eyes frantically searched him, halting when she saw the horrid state of his bony wrists. There were puckered purple splotches encircling each of his wrists, making Jona’s stomach twist at the sight of them. What had happened to him?

_Ka-chack!_ “Hello? Jona?” A yawn came from the snail. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Crispin!” Jona shouted at the snail, her voice shaking. “I’m at the breaker. There’s a whole ship busted up and down the coast. And I found someone! He needs help!”

“What?!” The voice on the other end was suddenly wide awake, the snail’s eyestalks flailing about as it mimicked the speaker. “A survivor? Don’t panic! I’ll get some of the guys around and we’ll be there soon! DON’T PANIC!”

The line clicked and the snail went to sleep. 

_Idiot,_ she thought, _I’m not going to panic, you are._ She felt her hands start to shake despite herself.

“Don’t worry,” she said aloud, not knowing if the man could even hear her. “Help’s on the way.”

Jona put the baby snail back inside her bag. Her friend Crispin knew the island as well as she did and would need no help finding them - he had stumbled on her favorite spot years ago, much to her annoyance. She bit her lip as she surveyed the battered body before her, waves soaking the poor man’s long legs. She didn’t know if he had any broken bones and really didn’t want to move him too much in case he did. But she couldn’t stand the sight of him partially stuck in the water.

She shuffled around to his head, hooking her arms under his armpits. She pulled, gently at first, and then with as much strength as she could muster. He was super heavy. Complete dead weight. She strained, squeezing her eyes shut as she pulled, listening to the little crunch of stones as he inched out of the water. With a final heave, she stumbled backwards over a larger rock, almost losing her grip and letting his head crash onto the stones. Fortunately for the stranger, her leg cushioned the fall as she fell underneath him.

He grunted as they landed, a hiss of pain escaping from behind clenched teeth.

“I’m so sorry!” Jona cried, feeling foolish. Her butt stung from slamming into the ground. But at least he wasn’t in the water any longer. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…”

She trailed off as she noticed the man’s eyes were slightly open, shuttered behind thick blond eyelashes. He was breathing heavily now, as if moving away from the water had brought on a renewed vigor. He grimaced up at her, mouth opening, rimmed by a growth of short blond stubble.

“Don’t talk!” Jona scolded. Her voice sounded surprisingly calm, even as she trembled with adrenaline. “You washed ashore and are badly injured. I have friends coming to help you. Don’t move, just try to calm down.”

_At least it’s not a dead body,_ she thought gratefully.

Doflamingo stared weakly up into the freckled face above him. Eyes as green as spring leaves stared down at him from beneath the bill of a blue hat, brows furrowed with worry. The early morning sunlight glinted off the red bangs that swiped sideways across the strange woman’s forehead.

He shivered involuntarily. He couldn’t really feel his body, though, numb as it was from the cold air and water that soaked what remained of his prison uniform. With the sea no longer keeping hold of him, he could feel twinges of his strength awakening on the periphery of his being. But he still could not feel that tell-tale rush of his strings, normally waiting taut within his fingertips.

Whatever _“friends”_ this woman had coming after them, he wouldn’t be able to fight them off in this state. He struggled to calculate the odds of him landing on an island without a Navy presence this close - or far? - from Impel Down. He had no idea where he was. He supposed if the Navy poked their heads over the rock above, then that was simply fate. He was too damn tired to care at that point. And everything hurt.

His thoughts churning sluggishly, Doflamingo became aware of the soft mass beneath his head, cradling him somewhat. It was a painful contrast to the sharp stones poking into his back. For the briefest of moments, he wanted to blindly jerk away from this unknown person. Like a wounded beast. But he didn’t think he could move much no matter how badly he wanted.

“It’s okay,” the woman said again. “Just breathe. Please keep breathing.”

A single laugh escaped his chapped lips. The movement caused his ribs to shudder, and he became aware of just how sore and stiff his whole body was. He figured at least one of his ribs were broken, maybe two. His wrists and ankles were on fire. And it felt like there was a bad gash across his chest. Silently, he cursed his powers that lay stubbornly dormant. Normally, his body would have begun mending itself by now - thousands of strings working independently from his thoughts to fix what was broken.

But he couldn’t help another painful chuckle. This woman, who most likely didn’t know who he was or the things he’d done, was probably the only person in the world who wanted Donquixote Doflamingo to keep breathing.

Too spent and weak to fight off the creeping dark that threatened to swallow his vision, Doflamingo felt his body relax. His neck reclined, allowing his head to settle more into the woman’s lap. He felt her fingertips ghost across his forehead, brushing back his too-long hair. The light touch was intoxicating, causing him to sigh. It had been so long since another person had touched him so gently. The guards had always roughly handled or struck him, treating him like stubborn livestock being herded to the slaughterhouse.

He wondered if his hair was as long as his brother Rosinate’s was when he died. There was an odd pang somewhere inside of him at the thought of his brother. Like something struck his gut. Doflamingo grimaced at the annoying sensation. He forced the unbidden image of the smiling man’s face from that night long ago from his mind.

A palm settled on his forehead. It was warm, soft and tiny, but there was a strength in the fingers that he couldn’t comprehend. He felt… oddly safe.

“It’s okay,” the soft voice intoned. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

That voice. It sounded… familiar. A new face emerged from a locked up corner of his mind. It was bright, like a holy aura casting warmth onto his beaten body.

_“It will be alright, Doffy, my darling,”_ came his mother’s voice. _“Rest now.”_

Doflamingo’s throat tightened. A single, hot tear rolled from his eye. No. Why was he crying? His mother was dead. She wasn’t here. She was long gone.

A soft hand brushed the tear from his face. Painfully tender.

And Doflamingo fell into a deep, deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually managed to crank out a new chapter today....   
> *sweats nervously as responsibilities loom behind me*   
> Enjoy! :)

By the time Crispin arrived with a herd of men from the village, Jona’s legs had fallen asleep beneath the giant man’s head. She hadn’t dared to move, afraid that she would somehow hurt him if she tried again. Instead she had passed the time trying to calm herself down and keep her brain from spiraling down with maddening thoughts of death.

To keep her shaking hands busy, she stroked the man’s hair. As she brushed her fingers through the locks clumped together by sea salt, the strands loosened, feathering out in the sunlight. She studied his face, regal and broken and menacing and beautiful all at once. A thought crossed her mind and she tried to imagine him without the stubble peppering his cheeks. Maybe the hair a little shorter. Something stirred in the back of her mind, a memory. 

“Jona!” Called a voice from above, making her flinch. “Jona where are you?!”

Craning her head back, Jona shouted, “Here! Down here!”

A figure peered over the ledge. Shaggy hair the color of dark bronze partially obscured the pale eyes that quickly scanned the rocky beach below. When he spotted them, Crispin shouted down, “Hang on! We’re coming down. Brae’s backing up the cart now.”

“Okay!” Jona breathed a sigh of relief as more faces appeared along the ledge. A small part of her hated that more people knew about this place now, but it was for the best if this stranger was to be saved. She watched as Crispin and a few other men carefully descended from the outcropping of rock, pulling along with them thick ropes and a huge tarp.

“Woah,” Crispin came to a halt beside Jona. His mouth gaped open like a fish as he stared down at the battered giant, his close-cropped beard glinting in the morning light. He let out a low whistle. “Glad we brought Brae along. This guy looks heavy. What do you think happened to him?”

Jona’s brow furrowed as she looked back down at the man passed out on her lap. “I don’t know. But let’s get him to a doctor.”

What Crispin had said about the man’s weight had been an understatement. It took all twelve of the assembled men, including Jona, to get him onto the tarp and lift him up the side of the sheer rock. Seven men pulled him up, straining with the dead weight, while two waited below to catch him in case the tarp or rope snagged on the rocks. Jona, Crispin, and one other man waited on the very edge of the outcropping to pull him over the side and keep his head from bouncing into the rockface. Once they had him up on solid ground, everyone took hold of the tarp and slowly carried him across the breaker, trying not to stumble over the uneven terrain.

When they finally reached the wagon, parked on the beach several yards away, sweat was pouring down Jona’s back. They carefully lowered him to the ground, everyone breathing heavily except for Braeburn, the huge, burly freckle-faced blacksmith who was only a few years older than Jona and Crispin. The man hardly ever wore a shirt - the curves of his well-defined bulk glistened with perspiration. He rolled his shoulders as he approached the back of the cart and hopped in, moving some boxes around to make more room.

“This guy’s huge,” observed one of the men. “He’s gotta be, what? Ten feet tall?”

“At least,” remarked someone else. The gathered men all murmured amongst themselves. They had all heard of hugely proportioned people - it was a common tale told to them from the crews of ships that docked in the small island’s harbor to pick up goods - but the tallest person on Autumn Island was only seven feet.

“Are we really going to just stand here and ogle over someone who’s half-dead?” Jona shot at the loitering men. They winced.

“Come on fellas,” Braeburn jumped down from the cart. He stopped at the giant man’s head and took a firm hold on the tarp. “Everyone grab hold and lift on three.”

Once they had the stranger loaded into the back of the wagon, Jona climbed up and sat near his head. Crispin followed and sat opposite her. Braeburn took the driver’s seat and snapped the reins tethered to the two oxen’s snouts. With a lurch, the cart pulled forward and away from the sea.

As they bumped along the narrow track of lumpy beach, Jona looked back and watched the other men scatter. They would check the area for any other possible survivors and radio in on a Transponder Snail if they found someone else. She let out a shaky breath as they passed the large broken mast, still jammed between the rocks.

“Some storm,” Crispin remarked, brushing his thick bangs away to peer at the looming object. He glanced warily down at the stranger at his feet. “Kinda makes you wonder how he managed to make it.”

Jona drew her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know. I just hope that there isn’t anyone else.”

“That’s kinda dark, don’t you think?”

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” Crispin said. “I get what you mean. Poor bastards, anyway.”

“I wonder if it was a Navy ship that sunk,” Braeburn called from the front.

“Probably,” Crispin stared back at the mast that was slowly disappearing from view as they followed the curve of the beach to find a two-track leading inland. He scratched at his beard. “Did you see the size of some of those planks? Clean-up crew’s gonna have a field day.”

As her two friends talked back and forth about all of the work that awaited them, Jona searched the stranger’s face, lost in her own thoughts. He looked familiar somehow. She racked her brain, trying to dredge up where she could have seen his face before. Reaching out, she lifted his hair back from his forehead. There was a deep frown line between his eyebrows and he looked stern even passed out, as if his body still couldn’t quite relax. After a few moments she gave up and let the hair fall back across his closed eyelids.

Finally finding the track that would lead them towards the town, Braeburn whipped up the oxen into a trot. Jona and Crispin held onto the stranger, trying to keep him from jostling too much on the bumpy road and bouncing out the open end of the cart. Jona winced whenever they hit a particularly deep rut. She hoped that they weren’t doing more harm to his battered body.

When they at last reached the outskirts of the small town, the path evened out and the ride was much smoother. They passed by rows of sturdy one-story houses, decorated with fenced-in yards and late-flowering shrubs, which eventually gave way to small businesses as they approached the center of town. People bustled about to and fro with purpose, the work day having started well before sunrise on the little island. They hurriedly stepped out of the way of the ox-driven cart as it lumbered down the main paths, staring after them for a moment before continuing on with their errands.

Once they reached the hospital - a squat two-story structure that reminded Jona of a big white brick encircled by old oak trees that rippled with orange and yellow leaves - they saw a small gathering of people just in front of the wide double doors. Jona raised an accusatory eyebrow at Crispin.

“I thought you said _‘Don’t panic’_?”

He grinned sheepishly. He measured a small space between his thumb and forefinger. “Maybe I panicked just a little bit.”

She rolled her eyes at him as they came to a stop in the middle of the crowd.

Faces peered up over the edge of the wagon, straining to get a good look at the stranger. Jona heard excited whispers about giants. She glanced down at the body next to her, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t that big.

“Get out of the way, you fools,” snapped a grouchy voice that wove its way towards the cart. “Get back.”

Lifting her eyes from the man’s face, Jona watched as the town doctor approached the wagon and halted at the open end. Dr. Mutsu was a grumpy old bat in her seventies who took no nonsense from anyone. She leaned heavily on her wooden cane. The lines on her forehead and around her mouth creased together as she frowned at the body before her.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Get him inside.”

A couple nurses appeared behind her with a rolling stretcher. The old woman eyed them disdainfully. “You’re going to want two of those put together for this one.”

As the nurses scrambled to locate another stretcher, Dr. Mutsu cast an imperious glance at Jona. “What happened?”

Standing slowly, her legs and butt stiff from the rough ride, Jona readjusted her cap. “There was some kind of wreck off the leeward side. I found him washed up on the beach.”

“I understand that,” Dr. Mutsu sounded annoyed. “I mean, what happened to this man?”

“How the heck should we know?” Crispin asked, hopping down from the side of the cart.

“Shut up, boy,” Dr. Mutsu snapped. The nurses appeared with the second stretcher and the woman rounded on them. “Secure those together and make sure they won’t come apart. I don’t need someone’s skull cracking open on my clean floors.”

With the double stretcher ready, it took eight people to lift the man from the cart. When they had him secured, Dr. Mutsu barked at Jona and Crispin to pick up his long legs that drug on the ground. Jona grimaced when she got a good look at the sores on his ankles. They were an angry red, almost purplish, and oozed. She did her best not to grab too close to them as she held his leg aloft.

As they carefully wheeled him inside, the harsh scent of antiseptic assaulted Jona’s nose, causing it to wrinkle involuntarily. Even if it was a place of healing, she hated hospitals. Plenty of people would enter a building like this and never leave alive.

With that lovely thought in her brain, Jona’s body went on autopilot as they wound their way through the building. Dr. Mutsu marched ahead of them, snapping at nurses and wandering patients to get out of the way. When they finally reached an open door, the doctor gestured them inside, and they pushed the stretcher into the center of the room. The nurses scrambled as Dr. Mutsu barked at them to bring in another bed to make one large enough for the new patient. As they did so, Jona and Crispin gingerly set the man’s legs down for a moment. Even his appendages were heavy.

Once a bed was prepared and an assortment of medical apparatus were brought into the room, Jona and Crispin were gently pushed aside. The nurses carefully but efficiently went about the business of transferring the man from the stretcher to the hospital bed. When they had him situated, they began to remove the clothing from his body with scissors to assess the damage, as well as inserting an IV.

Jona felt the blood drain from her face when she saw the needle.

Glancing over at the two of them standing in the corner, Dr. Mutsu snapped at Crispin, “Get her out of here.”

“But -“ Jona began to protest, swallowing hard. She tried to ignore the IV as it was covered with a bandage.

“You’re shaking like a leaf in a windstorm,” the doctor huffed. “You’ve done what you can. Now leave so that I can do my job without you getting in the way.”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Crispin gently guided Jona towards the door.

“Come on,” he murmured. She didn’t resist. Crispin hated being inside the hospital as much as she did, but not entirely for the same reasons. As they stepped outside, Crispin shut the door firmly behind them. He sighed loudly.

“Well, that was an eventful morning,” he commented wryly. He glanced at Jona. “You okay?”

She waved him off, turning on her heel and heading for the front entrance. He fell into step beside her, shoving his hands into his pockets. Jona folded her arms across her chest.

“What do you think happened to him?”

“Big dude back there?” Crispin let out a heavy sigh. “Who knows.”

“Did he look familiar to you?” she asked. “At all?”

“I don’t think so, why?” Crispin frowned as they exited the hospital into a brilliant ray of morning sunshine. It was already several degrees warmer than it had been when they’d arrived. The crowd from before had disappeared.

Jona shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“Alright… Wanna go get breakfast?”

“No, I think I’m going to go home and try to sleep for a bit.” She pressed a shaking hand to her cheek, staring at the ground.

“Okay,” Crispin murmured. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

She smiled kindly at him. “Thanks.”

As he strolled off in the direction of the town’s only diner, Jona let her hands fall to her sides. She bit her lip as she looked back at the hospital behind her. _Something’s wrong with me,_ she thought as she headed back inside the building.

Walking briskly down the main corridor, it didn’t take her long to relocate the room. Several nurses greeted her as she passed, not bothering to ask what she was doing - she knew all of them by name. Perks of growing up on a small island together. Once she was standing outside of the door, Jona hesitated. She wasn’t sure why but she felt fear stirring in her gut. It made her feel ridiculous. Steeling herself, she reached out to grab the doorknob when the door opened inward, revealing Dr. Mutsu.

The old woman’s frown deepened into a scowl when she saw Jona. “I thought I told you to leave.”

Having known the doctor for her whole life, Jona knew when Mutsu was being gruff for gruffness’ sake and when she was frazzled. The old woman looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Feeling her eyebrows knit together, Jona asked, “What’s wrong?”

The doctor stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Her dark eyes fixed themselves to Jona’s, jaw set. “I’ve only seen wounds like that a few times in my life, and the men who bore them were always dangerous. Whether he deserved whatever happened to him or not, that man’s seen hell.”

Confused, Jona asked, “What do you mean?”

The doctor shook her head. “There’s no point in worrying about it until he wakes up. He’s on the island now, so there’s not much to do about it anyway.”

“That’s not at all comforting.”

The old woman eyed Jona before turning away. “It’s not supposed to be.”

“Those clothes,” Jona called after her. “He’s a criminal, isn’t he?”

“How perceptive of you to notice now,” the doctor shot back sarcastically. “We’ll soon find out if you should have left him alone on that beach to die.”

"WHERE THE HELL IS HE?"

Hannyabal cowered underneath his desk. The angry roar reverberated through the walls of the great prison, dust raining down from the high ceilings. He cringed with each crashing bang that echoed through the thick doors to his office. _Why couldn't someone stop Magellan from rampaging already?!_

There was a splintering sound. A loud snap as the doors splintered apart at the seams.

"HANNYABAL!"

Hannyabal peeked over the edge of his desk warily. What else could he do? Magellan stood in the doorway, his huge poison-covered shoulders rising and falling in time with his rage-fueled breaths. Drops of poison slipped from his body and plopped to the stone floor, sizzling deep holes. The vice warden's scarred face was marred by an awful glare that fixed on Hannyabal.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hannyabal cried as he stood up. He slammed his hands on the desk, trying to appear indignant.

"A prisoner has escaped," Magellan drawled. He took an ominous step forward. "Why hasn't the alarm been sounded?"

Hannyabal huffed, annoyed. "Because, you great big oaf, there's no point. Why would I give myself a headache with that damn alarm when Doflamingo isn't anywhere in Impel Down?"

Magellan came to a halt before the warden. Hannyabal was grateful for the desk that separated them as the other man loomed over him.

"How can you be sure that he isn't hiding somewhere?" Magellan growled. "I haven't seen anyone conducting a thorough search."

Hannyabal grinned slyly. "Because I know for a fact that he's not here."

When the devil man's face twisted in confusion, Hannyabal guffawed.

“This is why I’m the warden of Impel Down now - I think ahead and don’t waste precious resources!” Hannyabal sat down imperiously in his chair, leaning back and crossing his leg over his knee. A delighted grin spread across his face. He would never get over the feeling of power that chair had. “Turns out you were slacking off again, Magellan!”

The vice warden’s mouth quirked into a deep frown. “What?”

“You heard me. I know all about how you abandon your post everyday and left the prisoner in the hands of guards incapable of watching him.” Hannyabal sneered gleefully. “In fact, they told me so themselves! Domino! Bring them in!”

On cue, the blond-haired Domino entered the office. She seemed to ignore the broken doors on either side of the entryway, her whip slapping into her upraised hand rhythmically. Behind her, a group of five men in fresh stripped prison uniforms slunk in. Their heads were down, gazes on the floor in shame, their legs connected by a length of chain that dragged loudly on the stones.

Magellan stood ramrod straight as he watched his subordinates shuffle to a noisy halt. Poison continued to drip from his body, hissing wherever it touched the floor. His eyes slid back to the warden’s, bearing his teeth in anger. “What is this?”

“These men have confessed to a crime,” Hannyabal waved off Magellan’s anger, grinning. He was enjoying this very much. “As such, they will have a reduced sentence, but they did abandon a prisoner from Level Six, so after this they will be spending some time down in Level One.”

“They’re being punished for my mistake?” Magellan ground out.

“Oh, would you rather take their place?” Hannyabal asked in mock surprise, resting a hand on his collarbone. “You’ll have to go down to Level Six, but if you really want to I can make those arrangements.”

“We’re sorry, sir!” Cried one of the men, cutting off Magellan’s reply.

“It was our fault!”

“Let us accept this punishment - you’re needed more than we are!”

Magellan’s face darkened. “You know very well why I had to _abandon_ Donquixote everyday.”

“Yes, yes,” Hannyabal snapped. “You and your damn diarrhea. I knew I should’ve picked someone more reliable to watch that bastard… But these men have admitted to their crime, and since you’re not willing to take their place, they will be heading down to Level One. Sadi! Take them away!”

Magellan couldn’t help the blush that rose up from his neck and into his face as the scantily-clad jailer Sadi stepped into the room. Her hips swayed from side to side, the leather straps of her outfit tight against her bare midriff. The woman giggled girlishly and blew the vice warden a kiss. Turning her back towards him, Sadi bent over, the tight pink leather pants squeaking in protest. The view was stunning. As always, Magellan looked away quickly, trying to ignore his racing heart. Damn woman. Taking the chain that connected the former guards together, Sadi tugged on them roughly, forcing them to follow as she exited the office.

Magellan forced himself not to watch them leave. Conflicting emotions rattled in his horned head. He caught sight of Hannyabal eyeing him knowingly and he grimaced.

“That still doesn’t solve the larger problem,” Magellan growled. He crossed his arms, forcing himself to relax and stop producing poison. “What are you going to do about Donquixote?”

Hannyabal rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, you masochist. I’ve already sent word to Navy HQ. We have the log of ships that were docked here leading up to Doflamingo’s disappearance. The Marines will track down whatever ship he managed to stow away on and bring him back here. He can’t have made it far. It’s not like he could break free of his seastone chains on his own.”

Magellan didn’t seem convinced. “Donquixote isn’t someone to take that lightly.”

“Says the man who let him get away because he was stuck on the shitter!”

Hannyabal’s cackling laughter followed Magellan as he stormed out of the warden’s office, his heated face twisted into a terrible scowl. He wasn’t going to take that slimy weasel's abuse. It wasn’t his fault that his devil fruit had such an annoying side effect.

He didn’t notice Domino following at his side until he was halfway down the winding hall that led to the security room.

“Ignore him, sir,” she muttered with surprising distaste. Domino was usually one to keep her thoughts to herself. But not many people at Impel Down thought highly of the new warden.

Grunting in response, Magellan clenched his fists. In that moment, he decided something. When the Navy brought Doflamingo back to Impel Down, he was going to execute the man, whether the yellow-bellied warden approved of his actions or not. It would most likely land him in a cell as Hannyabal wanted, but it would be worth it.

No one would miss Donquixote Doflamingo anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter several times, so apologies if it's kinda long. Enjoy Doffy being a jerk! ;)

The sound of hushed chatter woke Doflamingo from the hazy remnants of a nightmare. His eyes snapped open, residual sweat dotting his forehead. The nurses, who were quickly rewrapping fresh bandages around his exposed ankles, jumped back as he kicked viciously at them. He leaned forward, drawing his knees up as he snarled at them.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

They both flinched and made a break for the door, clutching their medical supplies close. As they ran away, a harsh laugh exploded from Doflamingo’s lips. A sharp pain stabbed the inside of his chest and he hissed as the door shushed close behind the frightened hospital staff. He dropped back against the conjoined mattresses they’d put him on, wincing at the way his ribs protested any movement.

_This sucks,_ he thought miserably.

As he squinted up at the ceiling, he thought again about what the wrinkled old hag had told him the previous day. It had been the first time in five days that he’d regained consciousness. According to that quack island doctor, anyway. She had given her name, but Doflamingo paid it no mind. He didn’t care who she was. She had given him a rundown of why he was in a hospital, what had apparently happened to him, and what his injuries were. He only clicked his tongue in annoyance as she listed them off: broken rib; cracked ribs; minor cuts and scraps across his chest, arms, and legs; some nasty bruising on his shoulders and back; and the abhorrent state of his wrists and ankles from the seastone chains. Everything that _should_ have been healed by the time he’d awakened if his damn Devil Fruit powers were working. He still couldn’t feel his strings.

The wrinkled old troll had then asked him a series of cognitive questions to assess if he’d sustained a concussion.

Did he know what day it was? No.

Did he remember what happened before he was rescued from the beach? He felt no need to respond to that.

What was his name? Joker. It was a slight risk, but not many outside of the underground should have known that alias. At least, while he’d been at Impel Down, none of the guards had called him that. He figured that name would be safer than flat-out announcing who he really was right off the bat.

Sick of being interrogated, he interrupted the old woman with his own question. “Where am I?”

The doctor’s weathered face twitched. “I was getting there, stupid boy.”

A nasty smile slithered across Doflamingo’s face. His honeyed words belied how irked he was. “Where am I, old hag?”

The doctor humphed, placing a wrinkled hand on her hip. “You’ll have to come up with a better insult than that, boy. You’re on Autumn Island.”

Doflamingo’s grin broadened. “Really. Now where would that be, exactly?”

“The Grand Line.”

Keeping the smile plastered to his face, Doflamingo quickly scanned his mental map of the world. He didn’t recall a place with such a boring name. “Doesn’t ring any bells, I’m afraid.”

The quack rolled her dark eyes. “That’s not very surprising. This is a small island. One that doesn’t need any trouble.”

He chuckled at that, immediately understanding the point she was making. This woman didn’t trust him one iota. She was smart, he’d give her that.

“I don’t plan on staying any longer than necessary,” he replied honestly. “I expect a speedy recovery.”

The old hag had the nerve to look down her nose at him - despite being a tiny crone. “I _expect_ that you’ll be here for at least a few more weeks.”

Doflamingo’s grin twisted downwards at that. “I don’t think so.”

“You won’t have much say in the matter, given your condition.”

“I heal fast.”

“Devil Fruit eaters always think so, but how long were you imprisoned with seastone?”

Doflamingo’s mouth pressed into a flat line. How in the hell did she know he had Devil Fruit powers?

The quack continued, tapping her wooden cane on the floor. “It’ll be some time before your body heals on its own. And depending on how long you were exposed to sea prism stone, you might not be able to use whatever abilities you have for awhile -“

“How long?” he cut in.

“Don’t interrupt.”

“How _long_?” he sneered.

She shrugged. “Everyone is different. It’s impossible to tell, but again I would say a few weeks at the least.”

Doflamingo ground his teeth. He didn’t want to be stuck in some backwater hospital for weeks. It had already been five days - Impel Down was sure to have contacted Navy HQ already about his disappearance. And once the Marines figured out which ship he’d been on, they would go looking for him. Granted, that ship was now on the bottom of the Grand Line, but they would do a methodical search of all the nearby islands where the ship last reported in. They would find this place eventually. 

And he was not going to sit back and get recaptured.

The old crone had then prattled on about how he needed to follow directions in order to heal. For whatever reason, she didn’t seem too keen on him staying long. Which was fine by Doflamingo. However, no one told him what to do. No one had dared tell him what to do since he was a child, and even then, those who had hadn’t lived long enough to regret it.

He needed a plan. But he needed information. The stubborn old broad refused to answer any more of his questions after that initial introduction, and the staff seemed to be too afraid of him to stay in the room long enough to interrogate them. He had attempted chasing one nurse, but his injuries had proven to be too painful to get upright. He’d collapsed on the floor, spasming with the pain that flared in his chest. 

It was like being punched by that annoying little rubber man all over again.

Refusing to allow any of the backwater hicks touch him, Doflamingo had stubbornly pulled himself back into the bed. The doctor had a smug look on her wrinkled face as she’d watched. As if due justice had been served.

Doflamingo couldn’t wait to get his hands around that scrawny neck.

As early morning sunlight streamed in through the wide window of the hospital room, Doflamingo laid back and tried for the umpteenth time to call up his strings. It should have been as natural as breathing. But as he lay there and struggled to grasp even a single thread, sweat blossomed along his temples.

_This is absolutely ridiculous,_ he growled impatiently when he felt nothing.

Doflamingo then heard the door to the small hospital room whisper open. Thinking it was the grouchy old bat of a doctor coming back to give him lip about his myriad of injuries, he reached out and snagged the water glass on the bedside table. He launched it towards the door, where it smashed nicely into the wall. The tinkling of glass scattering on the floor sounded heavenly as he laid back against the double bed. 

Much better than those awful thunderclaps that now plagued his fitful nightmares.

“Dammit!” someone shrieked as the glass hit the wall.

_“It will be alright, Doffy, my darling.”_

Doflamingo’s eyes flashed open. He shot up in bed, ignoring all of the flashing pain signals his body was sending to his brain.

There was a woman just inside the door. Or, at least, he thought it was a woman. Close-cropped red-gold hair peeked out from beneath a faded blue hat with a silver apple silhouette embossed on the front. A thick wool scarf looped around a neck hidden within the plaid folds. Doflamingo quickly raked his eyes down from the freckled face to the torso. Yes, it was a woman, though not as developed as he liked. That or the jacket was just hiding most of the curves. Long legs were sheathed in somewhat tight denim. Overall not bad. For a tomboy.

The red-head stared in shock first at the broken glass at her feet and then at him. Doflamingo felt an odd jolt lance through his brain as their eyes locked.

It was her. The woman from the shore. That voice that echoed in his head as he slept… so much like his mother’s…

“What the _fuck_?!”

Or maybe not.

Doflamingo grimaced and collapsed back to the bed, or rather, beds. There was a slight crevasse where the two beds were joined and he felt it every time he shifted. His torso was on fire from the sudden movement. He hurt all over. Damn that doctor for not doing anything more for his broken rib.

“At least you’re not that old hag,” he groaned.

“You were going to hit Dr. Mutsu with that?” the girl remarked incredulously.

“If I had another one, I’d throw it at you, too.” He kept his eyes closed. Her high pitched shriek had caused a headache to flare through his skull. He wished she would go away. That they would all go away.

There was a pause, followed by a soft tinkling sound. Doflamingo lifted his head a bit to see the tomboy squatting to pick up the remnants of the shattered glass. There was a covered basket hanging from her left arm he hadn’t noticed before. He zeroed in on the object, eyes narrowing. Immediately wary.

Standing with the pieces of glass in her hands, the girl walked across the room to the tall waste bin. She carefully brushed her hands on the front of her jacket to remove any tiny shards from her palms, and then turned towards him again. A pause - hesitation. Then she stepped slowly towards the bed. 

He kept his eyes trained on her, tracking every movement. Every footfall sounded like gunfire in his ears. His right hand twitched in anticipation where she couldn’t see. If she attacked, or made any other unsavory moves, he would grab her by the throat and squeeze. Even though he was injured it would be easy to snap her neck. Like breaking a toothpick.

The tomboy stopped just within arms reach of the bed. She glared down at him, hefting the basket a little higher on her hip in a haughty fashion. It reminded him vaguely of someone else.

“You’re not showing much gratitude to the doctor who saved your life by throwing things at her,” she chided.

Who was this woman, thinking she could scold him? He almost reached out to grab her then, but he kept still. He would wait to see if she made the first move. He was on edge, but couldn’t discern her intentions yet. The soft, trembling face that he recalled from the rocky shoal didn’t match the undisguised disappointment he saw now. Her brow furrowed when he kept silent.

“I am not grateful,” he said simply. “That quack has only prolonged my suffering.”

Placing a hand on her hip, the freckled woman tsked at him. “Are you just being a jerk because of your injuries, or are you always this charming?”

A devilish grin spread across his face. That was it. He could see it now - the annoying resemblance between this woman and the old crone. “It depends.”

“Well, can you stand to eat anything?” Her sudden question confused him, his smile faltering. She made to reach for the covered basket on her arm.

Doflamingo’s hand snaked out, grabbing her by the wrist, rising up from the bed and leaning forward to better defend himself. The girl cried out in surprise. Then she hissed in pain at the pressure of his hand, enormous compared to hers, engulfing her forearm.

“Let me go! What the hell?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked darkly. 

Even seated, he loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her much smaller form. His eyes bored into hers as she struggled. He noticed that they were a striking shade of green, rippling as the reflected light shifted across the irises. It reminded him of leaves in a soft breeze. Which was odd for him - he usually didn’t care to notice such things. As she tried to free herself from his grasp, the basket shifted sideways, and the contents fell to the polished floor. Doflamingo tracked the movement and blinked stupidly.

Apples.

They were apples. Plump and juicy looking. Red, gold, green, some speckled, and all shining with no imperfections. They thumped and rolled across the white stone floors.

The girl tugged against his grip. “Can you let go now? You’re hurting me.”

After a moment, still staring at the fruit rolling on the ground, he relinquished his grip. Shoving her away distastefully, a vein pulsed on his forehead. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” she spat at him, clutching her forearm and trying to regain her balance. “Be nice and bring you a treat?”

He glowered at her. “Do I look like a child to you?”

Rubbing her wrist, she muttered, “Well you’re acting like one.”

Bending over, she picked up one of the strewn fruit. She inspected it for damage, turning it this way and that in the fluorescent light. Finding none, she rubbed one side of the red apple into her shoulder. Extending her hand, she offered the fruit to Doflamingo. He pulled his face back from the unwanted object.

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Eat it?"

He squinted at her. "No."

His stomach rumbled like a traitor. She smirked.

Grimacing, he said, "You eat it."

"I didn't bring them for me." She kept her hand extended towards him. 

He pushed her hand and the proffered apple away from his face. "If you want me to eat it that badly, you must've poisoned it."

The girl rolled her eyes. There was definitely some relation between this woman and the quack. Either that, or all of the women on this piece of shit island were boorish and haughty. Not that that bothered Doflamingo, so long as they were young. 

She lifted the apple to her mouth and took a bite. Crunching down on the crisp fruit, she pushed it back at him. 

"There. Better?"

Doflamingo felt the vein on his forehead pulse again, but he gingerly took the bitten apple from her. He sniffed at it, which caused her to make a very rude, unlady-like noise in annoyance. He leered at her as he took a careful bite opposite of her teeth marks.

The woman smiled, then lowered herself to her knees to pick up the remaining scattered apples. "Was that so hard? Jeez, what happened to you to make you think I would poison a perfectly good apple?"

Talking past another bite - it was so damn good - Doflamingo laid back against the conjoined mattresses. He recalled Magellan’s dark, scarred face peering through seastone bars, laughing at his misery. “You’d be surprised."

Once she had collected all of the stray apples, the woman stood and gently deposited the basket on the bedside table. She brushed her hands on her thighs as she stepped back. She studied him for a long moment, which Doflamingo did his best to ignore.

“Well, this was fun but I have to go now. I'll leave these here for you to have whenever. But if Dr. Mutsu tells you to hold off on them, do as she says."

Doflamingo considered her words for a moment, squinting up at her. Then he spat a seed at her face. It stuck to her cheek like an enormous freckle.

Her lips quirked. Raising a hand to remove the seed, she muttered to herself, "I saved a giant man-child. A giant, stupid, crazy man-child." 

She turned to leave.

"Wait."

"What?" She asked sharply, halfway to the door.

"You have to test these, too." He pointed to the basket full of rescued apples.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "That's wasteful."

"Then you admit that one of them could be poisoned."

A rude snort exploded from her nose. "I guess you'll either have to trust me or find out."

"I don't trust people I don't know." Doflamingo said matter of factly.

Resting her hand on the door handle, the woman glanced over her shoulder at him. "My name is Jonagold, but people call me Jona. Now you know who I am."

With a childish little _hmph_ noise, she opened the door and walked out.

Doflamingo took another bite of the fruit. It was the juiciest, sweetest apple he'd ever tasted. Whether it was from the severe malnutrition he had dealt with, or if it truly was the best, he couldn't be sure. What he did know was that he was going to have some fun if the woman decided to return.

Doflamingo spent the rest of the day either sleeping or sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the bustle of the little island town. Much to the displeasure of the old hag of a doctor. Each time she came in to find him sitting upright, she scolded him and told him to lay back down, else he reopen the deeper cuts on his chest.

He told her to fuck off.

The old bat wasn’t much for conversation after the first few times he did that. Later, he tried to find out from her where exactly the island was in relation to Impel Down, when she came in followed closely by a nurse rolling in a food cart. Since she understood that he was a criminal - just not who he truly was, apparently - he figured a straightforward approach might get an answer. The old hag ignored him instead, brusquely checking his IV’s and evaluating his vitals with the stethoscope wrapped around her thin neck. Then they both left, the nurse leaving behind a small tray of grossly inadequate food beside the bed.

Doflamingo had inhaled the piece of roast beef, which was as bland as it looked, and picked at the pile of bright green peas and buttered carrots. He glanced over at the basket of apples. He had ordered them to be removed from his sight, but none of the nurses and orderlies had done so.

That irritating little _hmph_ from the woman from earlier kept replaying in his head.

“Jona,” he mumbled the name to himself. 

She seemed feisty, causing a smile to creep across his lips. This Jona had seemed to be completely unfazed by him. It reminded Doflamingo of how Baby 5 used to be, especially when she’d been younger. Brash and unafraid to be underfoot a bunch of murderous men. 

But the thought of his former subordinate left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Doflamingo flung the tray aside with a sudden jerk, the remaining contents spattering on the floor. Something shriveled in his chest when he remembered how Baby 5 had betrayed him, after years of loyalty. He grimaced, staring at his hands and the thick bandages wrapped around his wrists and palms. He’d practically raised the girl. Treated her like a princess. And she’d returned the favor by assisting with the revolt at Dressrosa.

A noise roused Doflamingo from his brooding. A young nurse had entered the room without his noticing, bent over the mess on the floor and muttering to himself. His back was turned towards the bed. Absorbed in his task.

“Hey.”

The young nurse glanced over his shoulder at Doflamingo - he couldn’t have been any older than seventeen - as he gathered up the tray. He had a shock of auburn hair and clear bright eyes. His face lit up with excitement as he found Doflamingo watching.

It was not the reaction Doflamingo expected.

“Oh, you’re awake! I didn’t notice! Man, you have a lot of people scared of you, did you know that? Oh! Did you really survive a shipwreck? Everyone’s been talking about it. That must have been something!”

“Yes. It was…something,” Doflamingo agreed, feeling an annoyed smile stretch across his face. This kid had one heck of a motor-mouth. Licking his lips, he tried asking his own question. “Do you know how far we are from Marineford?”

“Marineford?! Are you from there? Are you a Marine?” The kid’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m just trying to get my bearings,” Doflamingo surprised himself by saying honestly. “I’m not really sure where this island is. The ship I was on had probably drifted off-course during the storm.”

The nurse seemed to take this at face value. He nodded as if that made perfect sense, not noticing that Doflamingo hadn’t confirmed if he was a Marine. 

“We’re actually right on the edge of the Grand Line. The island sits mostly on the Calm Belt, but the leeward side faces the Grand Line. I think we’re close to Enies Lobby, but you wouldn’t be able to sail there directly from here.”

“What?” Doflamingo’s stomach twisted.

“Enies Lobby,” the nurse repeated. “You know, the Judicial Island? Where the Marines take criminals to be judged ’n all? Kinda never has nighttime? Man, you really must’ve hit your head on something during that storm, huh Mister Joker?”

Doflamingo stared through the nurse, not listening. One thought kept playing through his mind: too close, too close, _too damn close!_

There were small islands scattered all around the end of the first half of the Grand Line, in the area known as Paradise. None really mattered except for three: Enies Lobby, Marineford, and Impel Down. Doflamingo cursed his fowl luck. This would be one of the first places they would look for him.

“I have to leave,” he muttered to himself, not hearing anything that the young nurse was saying. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. A hiss slipped past his teeth as his bare feet touched the cold stone.

“I-I wouldn’t do that! Dr. Mutsu said you weren’t supposed to stand up or anything yet.”

_Watch me,_ Doflamingo thought irritably. He pushed himself up, bracing himself for the pain that slammed through his legs and chest. The welts around his ankles burned as the bandages shifted.

He took a step forward.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The quack appeared in the doorway, weathered face appalled.

Doflamingo gave her an unhealthy grin. He took another painful step towards the door. “I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave yet.” The doctor crossed her arms imperiously, rooted to the spot. “You’re not anywhere near healthy enough to leave, you impatient brat.”

“You know,” Doflamingo drawled through the pain as he approached the door. “I’m getting real sick of your mouth, you damn worthless piece of human garbage.”

His hand snaked out, latching onto the old woman’s throat. She clutched desperately at the hand encircling her neck as her feet lifted off the ground. He smiled in delight at the gurgling sounds she made. He pulled her close to his face and said, “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?”

The young nurse started shouting as Doflamingo exited the room, doctor in hand. He kept the smile plastered to his face as pain assaulted his senses, the world tinging red around his vision. The crone clawed at his hand as he haltingly stepped down the winding hallways, trying to free herself.

Everyone they passed fell back in horror. Cries rose up all around, most begging for Doflamingo to let the doctor go. But no one made a move to stop him. They all cowered at his devilish grin and towering height like the worms they were. His laugh echoed through the halls as he marched towards the entrance.

It felt so good to be in control of something again.

As they approached the long desk and wide double doors that marked the front entrance, Doflamingo snapped at the gathered nurses guarding the doorway. “Move.”

They all looked at each other, sweating nervously. As they hesitated, Doflamingo shook the doctor at them. Her eyes bulged.

“Move or the quack dies right now.”

He squeezed. The old woman could only make a choking sound, still struggling against him although it was pointless. Even though he was still in bad shape, her feeble strikes at his hand felt only like a fly bouncing on his skin.

The people moved quickly out of his way.

“Good choice,” Doflamingo purred.

The doors opened before him and he stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. There was a slight chill to the air despite the clear skies. A shiver ran up his spine as he breathed deeply, a breeze ruffling the partially open back of his oversized hospital gown. He was free. Truly free. And no one was going to stop him.

Something hard and sharp _thwacked_ into the side of his skull.

Doflamingo growled, turning his head in the direction the object had come from. The spot where he’d been hit, just barely missing the temple, throbbed. A trickle of blood run down the side of his face.

Fierce green eyes glared at him from a short distance away. Doflamingo sneered at Jona. She was breathing heavily, as if she’d just been running. There was another rock clenched in her fist, poised to launch at him.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Doflamingo straightened as he turned towards the woman. The world flashed with a red haze. Anger boiled in his stomach. “How dare you strike me, _filth_.”

“Jona,” the doctor squeaked weakly. Doflamingo squeezed tighter, cutting off her air supply. He could feel the way the old woman’s flesh spasmed as she struggled to breathe. It was intoxicating, feeling the balance of a life hanging quite literally in his hands.

“Let her go, dammit!” Jona cried. She lunged forward, the rock tumbling from her hand, forgotten.

Dark laughter burst from Doflamingo’s lips as she rushed him. “Why should I?”

From out of nowhere, a fist slammed into his side, knocking the wind out of him. Doflamingo stumbled away from the impact, twisting towards the unknown assailant. His grip on the doctor loosened and the weight of the old woman was suddenly wrenched from his hand. A body rammed into him and he crashed backwards onto the ground.

A burly, barrel-chested man pinned Doflamingo to the ground. The attacker was much smaller than him, and the man had no shirt on despite the cold air, but he was strong. Bare arms like iron vices flexed as they pressed Doflamingo deeper into the dirt. Pain rippled through his chest and he grimaced, bones protesting.

Out of the corner of his eye, Doflamingo saw Jona dragging the doctor away from the scuffle. The old woman was coughing, her breath ragged, but she was alive. The expression on Jona’s face as she quickly glanced in his direction gave him pause. Was that… _pity?_ His teeth clenched.

“Time to calm down, buddy,” the man pinning Doflamingo advised.

“Like hell,” he ground out. Ignoring the pain, Doflamingo wrenched his body from side to side. The man was forced to let go, tumbling away with a grunt as one of Doflamingo’s fists connected with the man’s cheek. Forcing himself upright, he kicked out viciously at the man, aiming for his head but he missed and wobbled dangerously. The man took the opportunity to roll out of the way, jumping up between Doflamingo and the two women in a plume of dust.

“Braeburn!” Jona shouted at the man’s back. She had the doctor wrapped protectively in her arms.

The man spat to the side, swiping at his cheek. “I’m fine, Jonnie.”

Biting her lip, Jona turned her gaze up at Doflamingo. “What is the matter with you?! Are you crazy? Dr. Mutsu’s only been trying to help you, and you go and try to kill her?”

Doflamingo looked down his nose at them, squinting. He wanted nothing more than to crush them underfoot, the whole lot of them. He ignored the odd ringing at the back of his mind, like a voice calling from far away. His fists clenched and unclenched, fingers wriggling. Searching for strings that wouldn’t heed his call. He snarled and turned away, slowly limping down the wide path. Gawkers had filled the road and they quickly backed out of his way, parting like a sea before him.

“Where are you going?” Jona’s voice called after him.

He didn’t know. He just knew that he needed to get away. Far away from the Navy who were certainly hunting him. This piece of shit nowhere island. These annoying backwater people. And that woman. The haloed freckled face from the beach flashed in his mind’s eye and his throat tightened. Especially that woman.

He didn’t turn back as he walked down the road, though he fully expected the man who’d tackled him to try and fight again. Then again, he might’ve only attacked to free the old hag. If that was the case, Doflamingo hoped that no one else would try to stop him. He’d nearly killed an old woman - let that be a warning to anyone who dared get in his way.

Walking blindly, trying to ignore the awful pain in his chest, Doflamingo left the road. He found himself walking amidst thickening trees. They grew tall and close together, some thicker than his arms could wrap around. Enormous red and green leaves fell from high above to settle on the soft grass his bare feet tread upon, creating a lush carpet of patchwork colors. Sunlight rippled down through the canopy of leaves. The heady scent of earth assaulted Doflamingo’s nose. He stopped after awhile, craning his head back to look upwards. Clouds floated high in the sky above the trees, mocking him.

_Now what?_ He thought wearily.

His ears pricked at a rustling sound from behind. He whirled around, nearly toppling himself from the sudden movement. His bandaged hands lifted and his knees bent automatically into a defensive position.

In a patch of sunlight a few yards away, stood Jona. Alone. A light wind blew down through the trees that surrounded them, sending up a mini whirlwind of fallen burgundy leaves around her. The tail of the plaid scarf around her neck lifted and swayed in the breeze.

“What do you want?” Doflamingo snapped.

The woman held up her hands, palms facing forward. “It’s okay, just relax. I’m not here to hurt you.”

He laughed cynically. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

“Funny,” she muttered. “Then what’s that blood on your face?”

Doflamingo sobered. Touching the drying blood, he asked, “Why did you follow me?”

“You didn’t seem to know where you were going.” Jona shrugged. He was surprised by how relaxed she seemed. Until he noticed her hands shaking.

“I have to leave this island.”

“Well, you’re going the wrong way if you want to do that.” She flung a thumb over her shoulder. “Port’s back that way.”

Doflamingo peered at her. He took a step forward. She didn’t shy away. He moved towards her, until he stood only a pace or two away, towering over her. She stood her ground, but he caught her swallowing hard. A grin played on his lips.

“You must be stupid, coming after me alone.”

“I don’t want you to wander off and die somewhere on the island,” she responded. “I’ve had my fill of finding random bodies, thank you very much.” Her gaze softened then. “You’re still hurt pretty badly. Why do you feel the need to leave so quickly? And in such a rotten way?”

Doflamingo was taken aback, but he didn’t let it show. He grinned down at Jona. “I’m a pirate. I can’t have the Navy capturing me again.”

“A pirate?” Jona repeated, brows furrowing. “Just because you’re a pirate doesn’t mean you had to almost kill Dr. Mutsu.”

“That old hag was irritating,” he muttered. “And I can do whatever I want.”

"Will you come back to the hospital?" Jona asked quietly, staring down at his feet.

"I don't believe that I'll be welcome there anymore," Doflamingo chuckled. "Besides. That will be the first place the Marines will look when they do show up here."

"What if you were somewhere they couldn't find you?"

Doflamingo stared down at the girl, momentarily stupefied. “Such as?"

"Jona! Are you mad?!"

Doflamingo and Jona both jerked their heads up to find a small gathering of people marching through the forest towards them. They were led by a hobbling Dr. Mutsu, the man called Braeburn close on her heel like a bulky shadow. Several people had bats, pipes and pitchforks in their hands. An old fear gripped Doflamingo savagely, twisting his stomach, causing him to involuntarily step backwards.

It was like the mobs that had hunted down his family when he was a child.

_“Find the Celestial Dragons!”_

_“Make them pay for what they’ve done!”_

_“Kill them!”_

The memory of angry voices made Doflamingo's body convulse. He shuddered and his knees buckled, already weak from standing for so long. His chest spasmed. He couldn’t breathe. As he dropped to his knees, Jona cried out, "Joker!"

Clawing at the ground, he tried desperately to get back on his feet. He had to run. Had to get away. But his fingers were numb and his body wouldn’t listen. Distantly, Doflamingo felt small hands clasp against his shoulder. Another voice rang in his head as he looked up into Jona's eyes, brilliantly green and wide with worry.

" _Doffy, my darling. Everything will be alright now."_

_Mother,_ he thought wistfully. Unthinking, he reached a hand up and touched Jona's face. The woman froze for a moment. Rippling sunlight backlit her features, like a surprised angel. Then her freckled face twisted into panic as Doflamingo's eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

“Joker?! Joker! Can you hear me? Joker! It'll be okay, just hang on…"


	6. Chapter 6

Doflamingo's eyes struggled open. He stared up at a familiar ceiling, a crevasse yawning underneath his spine. The sound of a crow cawing echoed through a pane of glass to his left, where amber light shined into the dimming room. The sterile scent of antiseptic flooded his nose.

He was back in the hospital room.

A face lurched into view directly above his head. "Mr. Joker! You're awake!"

Doflamingo flinched, immediately awake. He had to force himself not to strike the young nurse from before and send him flying across the room. Well, the sharp pain in his throbbing chest kept him still. Thankfully, the young man straightened back, beaming and oblivious to any danger.

"You sure did give everyone a scare, Mr. Joker!”

Doflamingo groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Go away."

"Sorry, no can do. Jona said I had to keep an eye on you until she came back."

Doflamingo's eyes snapped open at that. Images of his poorly-attempted escape flooded from the dreary shadows of unconsciousness. He turned his head to glare at the boy. "What? Why?"

The kid shrugged unhelpfully. He grinned from ear to ear, happy as a clam despite his lack of information. "My name's Jazz by the way!"

"I don't care," Doflamingo muttered.

That didn’t seem to sour the boy’s mood at all. “Would you like anything to eat? Jona left you some really nice apples earlier. Want one?”

“No.”

“Oh… Can I have one then? I’m starving!”

“Again, kid,” Doflamingo growled in annoyance. He lay back, screwing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I don’t care.”

“Okay!” There was a soft rustling of fabric. Then a loud crunch as an apple was bitten. The kid kept talking in between bites, words pouring out of his mouth with frightening speed. “So are you really from Marineford? Why did you try to hurt Dr. Mutsu and run away? That doesn’t seem like something a Marine would do. But then again, I’ve never met anyone in the Navy before. What rank are you? You must be really strong to take on Braeburn - he’s our blacksmith. He’s, like, super strong! Did he punch you? Did it hurt? I bet it hurt. I’ve never been punched before, but I’m sure it hurts like a motherfuc-”

“I’m not -” Doflamingo grimaced “-will you just shut up!”

Jazz jumped backwards as Doflamingo lurched into an upright position, swiping at him. The nurse kept chomping down on the apple in his hand, already eaten down to the core. Nonchalantly, he tossed the core into the waste bin across the room. He then reached for the uncovered basket beside the bed, eyes locked on Doflamingo with unabashed curiosity as he plucked another apple.

Doflamingo narrowed his eyes at the unafraid teen. They locked eyes for a long moment, Jazz chewing thoughtfully. Doflamingo felt his stomach rumble and he begrudgingly grabbed an apple at random from the basket. Crisp flavor exploded across his tongue as he ate.

“Good, aren’t they?” Jazz grinned.

Doflamingo made a noncommittal noise.

The boy nodded, cheerful for no apparent reason. It was annoying. “We do have the best in the world!”

Before Doflamingo could reply, voices sounded out in the hallway. Muffled at first, then louder and clearer the closer they came towards the door. His hand that gripped the half-eaten apple settled on his lap as he listened.

“You can’t just kick him out,” a familiar voice said indignantly. It was the tomboy. Doflamingo’s ears pricked. What was she talking about? What was happening?

“He’s healed enough to be out of immediate danger.” That was the quack doctor. “He doesn’t need to stay here any longer, but he’ll have to come in for periodic check-ups. If he sticks around, that is.”

“Can’t he just stay here until he’s completely healed?”

“Unfortunately, no, he can’t. He’s too dangerous. And he’s racked up enough of a bill that I’m sure once he sees the numbers he’ll take off in the night, anyway.”

“So this is about money?”

“A bit. But he really can’t stay here, Jona. You saw what he did today!”

“But there must be a reasonable explanation.”

“Men like that don’t need excuses to hurt people, Jona. You should know that by now.”

“But Gee-Gee,” a hushed whisper pleaded. Doflamingo strained to catch the words, but he did.

“Don’t start that with me, girl. Even if he hadn’t tried to kill me, he’s beyond rude and won’t follow my instructions. I won’t have a stubborn imbecile die in my hospital because he won’t listen to reasonable restrictions. And most of the nurses are scared of him. Jazz is the only one who will even go near him right now, fool that he is!”

Doflamingo raised an eyebrow at that. He glanced at the boy who stood at his bedside, obliviously munching away on another apple. Aside from what had transpired earlier, Doflamingo tried to think back on if he’d intentionally messed with any of the staff. Flashes of bottles being broken, flinging nurses away from him who tried to administer injections, and mild threats on their lives filtered through his mind. 

It couldn’t have been any of that.

“Then I’ll take him.”

Doflamingo’s eyes slid toward the door. A silhouette appeared in the frosted pane of glass set in the wooden slab. An eerie calm settled over him as he listened.

“You can’t take him!” The quack protested in a shrill voice. “He’s a monster!”

“It’s fine, Gee-Gee. He’ll be out of your hair and as soon as he’s able, I’ll make sure he gets on a ship and leaves the island.”

“You’re crazy! And stop calling me that!”

“I am not crazy!”

The door opened at that moment. The two women entered the room and immediately went silent upon finding Doflamingo seated ramrod straight in bed. He held Jona’s gaze, ignoring the old crone as she huffed. There was a flurry of emotions that crossed that freckled face before it struggled into an empty mask. Doflamingo’s eyes then drifted down from her brilliant green ones to the small black object she fidgeted with in her hands.

After a moment of silence, he greeted them with a low “Ladies.”

“I suppose you heard what we were discussing,” the doctor surmised.

He chuckled. “Yes. Out into the streets I go.”

Jona walked towards him. Stopping at the edge of the bed, she offered him the small black thing in her hand. He realized it was a container of some kind but made no move to take it from her.

“What is that?”

“You squint a lot,” she said quietly. 

Noticing that he still wasn’t going to take it, Jona sighed. She opened the oblong container, parting it in half to reveal a pair of glasses nestled inside. She lifted the lenses delicately by the slim black nose bridge.

Holding them out to him, she said, “I’m not sure what prescription you are, but maybe these will help a little. At least until we can make you an appointment with an optometrist.”

Momentarily dumbfounded, Doflamingo took the glasses from her. As he placed them on his face, he was surprised to find that they had been somehow altered to fit. They weren’t perfect, though. The bows pinched tightly against his head. But as he blinked he could see the farthest edge of the room a little more clearly, despite his eyes rebelling against the incorrect lens prescription. He was going to have a splitting headache later, but it was better than being half-blind.

He didn’t thank her. Doflamingo didn’t thank anyone.

“Can I get an extra set of bedclothes to take with us?” Jona had turned towards the doctor, who was unhooking the IV from Doflamingo’s arm. “I don’t have anything that will fit him at home.”

“I’ll see what we can scrounge up,” the doctor said tightly. She slapped a bandage across the skin of his arm and then briskly walked out of the room.

“Jazz? Can you help me get him out of bed?” Jona said, her voice still holding that odd quiet note. 

The boy grinned hugely. Then he shoved the apple core into his mouth like a goat, seeming to swallow without chewing. “Let’s get you up, Mr. Joker!”

“And where do you think you’re taking me?” Doflamingo slapped Jona’s proffered hand away.

She clutched her hand to her chest, scowling. “Well, you sort of ruined your chance to stay here. But you can stay at my place until you’ve healed.”

“It won’t matter where I’m at if the Navy shows up,” Doflamingo spat.

“Relax, Mister Paranoid. No one is going to tell them where you are, if they ever do show up,” Jona replied evenly.

“Wait,” Jazz looked confused. “I thought Mr. Joker was in the Navy?”

A headache pulsed between Doflamingo’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from the boy’s incessant questions or from the ill-fitted glasses on his head. It felt odd having something rest on his face after… however long it had been since his sunglasses had been smashed by Magellan on that first day at Impel Down.

Suspicious, Doflamingo narrowed his eyes at Jona. “What makes you think no one is going to say anything about me?”

“Just trust me.” Her eyes glinted with determination. They stared at each other for a long moment. Doflamingo’s mind churned, trying to run through every possibility and outcome of whether he took his chances on his own or allowed this strange woman to hide him. For the life of him, he just couldn’t figure out why she was willing to help him, especially after he had almost killed the quack right in front of her. What was she to gain by helping him?

He didn’t have any better options. Out of habit, he grinned. What the hell?

Doflamingo turned towards the edge of the bed, long legs falling over the side. Both Jona and Jazz moved closer, lifting their hands to assist. He growled, still grinning. “I don’t need any damn help.”

Jona watched him struggle to stand for a moment. Then she stepped closer and grabbed him by the arm, despite his protests. Following her lead, Jazz did the same, smiling the whole while.

Taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around the woman’s shoulders, Doflamingo leaned in close, his cheek nearly brushing against hers. He whispered into her ear, low so that Jazz couldn’t overhear. “Try anything stupid, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“You have to actually try to get up if we’re going to help you,” Jona said loudly. She leveled her gaze with his, unflinching. There wasn’t so much as a sliver of fear in her eyes.

_Oh, you’ll be so much fun to break,_ Doflamingo thought wickedly.

The woman wasn’t really much help, and neither was the kid - even seated Doflamingo towered over the both of them - but he did manage to finally stand up after a few attempts. He wobbled for a moment on unsteady feet. The world swirled beneath him for a moment, a quick bout of light-headedness overtaking him. He absolutely hated that he had to hold on tightly to his unwanted helpers as his body reacquainted itself to being upright. 

His entire body ached.

Reaching his arms slowly above his head, he released his grip on Jazz and Jona. He stretched carefully at first, then languorously as his muscles demanded to be uncoiled. His fingers scrapped against the rough ceiling. The sensation made him flinch. Jona grabbed his hand in an attempt to steady him again as he wobbled.

He jerked his hand from her grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

She rolled her eyes at him from beneath the brim of her cap. Then she bent down, finding a pair of slippers just under the the bed. She placed them in front of his feet. After a moment, he carefully slipped them inside. They were soft, but just barely fit his feet, his heel dragging off the edge.

“So…” Jazz drug the syllable out into the silence. “You’re _not_ a Marine?”

Doflamingo chuckled down at the teenage nurse. The obliviousness was growing on him. “No. I’m not.”

“Oh…” Jazz looked disappointed, face dropping into a pout.

Jona leaned forward, cupping a hand to her mouth as she mock-whispered, “He’s a filthy, no good pirate.”

Jazz looked agape for a long second. Then he squealed, eyes sparkling. “A pirate?! REALLY? Holy crap! A real pirate? Is standing? Right next to me?!”

Doflamingo leaned away from the teen as he hyperventilated. At that moment, the door opened and the quack re-entered the room, followed by another nurse who carried a bundle of clothes in muted shades of pastels. The old woman lifted an eyebrow at the three of them.

“I trust that you’ll at least change into something other than that gown before you leave.”

Doflamingo glanced down at himself. The hospital gown was an ugly shade of pale green, with little blue flecks attempting to create a semblance of a pattern. It barely covered his knees as he stood. There was nothing else on his person underneath. A malicious grin played on his lips. He had no reason to be ashamed if someone caught him naked. He knew he looked damn good.

“If it will make the old witch feel better…” Doflamingo shifted his shoulders, reaching behind his back to undo the strings that held the sheet to his body. He ignored the way his ribs protested the movement.

Jona let out a surprised little gasp as the fabric fell away. A delicious flush rose up into her cheeks as she turned away quickly. The quack rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

Coming out of his pirate-fanboy stupor, Jazz jolted into action. He rushed forward and snatched the topmost clothes from the pile in the other nurse’s arms. He bounced back to Doflamingo like an eager puppy, unfolding the pale blue material with a quick snapping motion. “Here you go, Mr. Joker!”

_This kid is way too excited to be helping a pirate,_ Doflamingo thought, kicking off the tiny slippers. As he slowly slipped on the oversized trousers - which were much too short for someone of his height, coming up to his knees - Jona took the remaining clothes from the nurse. He didn’t listen as the doctor handed her a large white metal case full of medical supplies and ranted a list of instructions for how she was supposed to use them. Pulling on the shirt, Doflamingo was surprised to find that it fully covered his flat stomach, excess fabric billowing loosely about his waist.

Seeing his reaction, the quack sneered, “That’s a maternity gown. Figured it would be the only thing to actually fit.”

Jazz snorted. He turned his back to Doflamingo as he glared at the boy, shoulders shuddering with barely checked laughter.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Doflamingo stepped back into the slippers. He straightened, catching Jona’s stare. He lifted his arms, bandaged palms extended. “I’m all yours.”

Ignoring his comment, Jona turned to the doctor and thanked her for the supplies. After a moment, Doflamingo trailed behind her as she exited the room, ducking his head low to avoid bumping into the doorway. The old woman hobbled quickly to match pace with Jona, casting untrusting glares back at him as they made their way down the hall.

“Remember, he needs to be back for a check up in a week, if he stays that long. The medicine I gave you should last until then, but if you need more, I can send Jazz to deliver it.”

“Thank you,” Jona smiled at the doctor. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me until after he leaves the island,” the doctor muttered as they approached the front entrance.

Doflamingo lifted his chin at the nurses and orderlies who loitered about the small lobby. None of them dared to make eye-contact, but he could feel their heavy gazes on him all the same. There was a palpable distrust in the air.He forced a grin. Really he was just baring his teeth, daring anyone to fuck with him.

Jona twisted around as she stepped towards the double doors, hefting the bundle in her arms. “Stop scaring everyone. Let’s go.”

Jazz held the door open wide for them. He bounced on his feet and grinned like a two-year-old. “See you later, Mr. Joker! Bye Ms. Jona!”

“Thank you, Jazz.” Jona’s smile gave Doflamingo pause. It was so sincere and kind, almost maternal. It made his stomach clench.

He shoved his way past the woman, not caring that the items in her arms went tumbling to the ground as he bumped roughly into her. She swore, quite colorfully, too. Doflamingo ignored the commotion and strode out into the middle of the road. He stared up at the amber sky, the sun sinking down to the horizon. Long trails of thick clouds stretched across the brilliant shades of oranges, reds and yellows. He hissed in pain as his fists clenched, fingernails digging into the bandages covering his palms.

Without his strings, freedom felt so damn fleeting.

Something small and solid purposefully bumped into his side. Doflamingo tried not to stagger, but his body teetered aside despite his wishes. Jona gave him a contemptuous look as she brushed past him, sticking her nose up in the air with a little _hmph_ as she walked briskly away. Her hips swayed a bit as she walked, not entirely hidden beneath the jacket. The sight sent a long-forgotten thrill rushing through his body as he readjusted the glasses balanced on his nose.

Clicking his tongue, Doflamingo cast one last glance at the hospital. When he noticed the doctor watching warily from the open doorway, with Jazz still holding it, he gave her as malicious a grin as he could muster. He licked his lips for good measure, turning to saunter down the street after Jona.

_Oh the things I’m going to do to you,_ Doflamingo chuckled to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

The stony path crunched lightly beneath Doflamingo’s slippered feet as he followed Jona through the little town. He kept a short distance between them, enjoying it immensely that the woman seemed irritated whenever she turned around to make sure that he was still there. She would glance over her shoulder, a sliver of worry in her eyes. Then her cheeks would puff out as she released a breath, steam clouding in the rapidly cooling air. He bared his teeth at her each time in a wide grin, laughing at her foolishness and pretending that the chilly air wasn’t bothering him.

Keeping his head on a swivel, Doflamingo tried to ascertain what each of the little shops sold as they made their way down the main road. But with the rapidly failing light and lack of street lamps, he couldn’t tell what most were, other than when they passed through an open market area, with the sellers packing up the remainder of their wares and fresh produce into carts and boxes. All of the townsfolk they encountered gave Jona a friendly wave or greeting, which she returned with a happy smile. When they caught sight of the looming giant trailing behind her, however, they shrank back. Most gave him an evaluating once-over, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and wariness, though a few did attempt some quiet ‘ _hello_ ’s.

He marveled at how quickly word had spread about his little spat with the doctor. A dark chuckle escaped from deep in his throat, causing Jona to squint back at him suspiciously.

“What are you laughing at?”

Doflamingo adjusted the glasses on his nose. He looked pointedly at her rear, half covered by her jacket and the growing darkness. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Don’t make me regret giving those to you,” she replied curtly. He noticed with a chuckle that her messenger bag shifted to cover the rest of her bottom. “My house is just up ahead.”

The “house” that the Jona girl took him to was tiny. Really it was no more than a hovel, as far as Doflamingo was concerned. The roof had seen better days - even in the growing twilight he could see patches of shingles missing here and there. The shutters on the windows were barely hanging onto their hinges. Weeds grew up around the low fence that encircled the place - not too high, so they must have been trimmed not too long ago, _but still_.

Doflamingo frowned at the place. It reminded him of the dirty shack his father had relocated them to when he was just a boy, after their mansion had been razed to the ground. Perhaps this was a touch better, but the flash of familiarity made his hackles rise.

“I am not staying here,” he ground out from clenched teeth.

Jona, who had pushed open the rickety gate with a loud and pitiful _creeeeaak_ , turned and looked at him, puzzled. She hefted the bag on her shoulder. “What?”

“I,” Doflamingo repeated slowly, “am not staying here. This is a dump.”

Squaring her shoulders, Jona glared at him from the concrete stoop. “This is my home, thank you very much.”

Doflamingo grunted in distaste. He scanned the place, teasing out more disheveled details in the receding light. “Your _home_ is a _shithole_. I’m surprised it’s even standing. Looks like it could collapse any minute.”

It really wasn’t that bad, but there was no way she could think that he would be forced to stay there. He used to be a king, for all that was holy. He used to be a feared Shichibukai. He deserved better accommodations.

Frowning, Jona looked at her home. She could see immediately all that was wrong with it, and she didn’t need some giant temperamental man-child to point anything out. It wasn’t big, and it needed some TLC, but she was too busy trying to scrape out a living. Any work that absolutely needed to be done she could normally con Crispin or Braeburn to help her out, or she took care of it when she could. The house had seen better days, that was for sure, but it was also the only home she had now. Besides that, she could see the goodness in its bones and hoped that, someday, she could truly make it her own.

Turning to leer at the tall man stubbornly stopped at her gate, Jona straightened her spine. “Do what you want, then. No one else on this island is going to give you a handout. Especially after the crap you pulled today.”

With that, Jona turned and pushed the door open. She disappeared inside. The old wooden door swung back, complaining sharply and not completely closing. She didn’t close it fully.

Doflamingo spat into the dirt. Damn this woman, she was aggravating.

A noise from behind caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed some people milling about, pausing to gawk at him as they went about their way home. The row of houses on the opposite side of the street were only barely better off than the one before him. Paint was chipped, shingles were missing, hedges were in desperate need of trimming. He frowned, recalling what the boy Jazz had said about the island having _‘the best apples in the world’_. Given the state of the residences, that statement didn’t compute.

“Enjoying the show?” He growled at the passerby. Several flinched and hurried off. A few older people seemed nonplussed by his menacing presence, staring at him a moment longer with wizened, defiant faces before setting off.

_If only I had my strings,_ he thought, flexing his fingers. Nothing responded.

Grimacing, he looked back to the worn down house the girl had vanished into. There was a window on either side of the door. He wondered if she were watching him from inside, waiting to see what he would do next. The thought made his blood boil as he stood there, debating internally.

There was really nowhere for him to go. He could make his way to the port, hop on a ship and take his chances elsewhere. But he had nothing aside from his name to get anywhere, and announcing who he was to the wrong people could be dangerous and land him back in prison. And there was the fact that his Devil Fruit powers remained unresponsive. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself properly if he were attacked, let alone heal himself if he were injured.

Two birds chirped, flitting down from the nearby trees to the yard. Doflamingo watched them as they chased each other across the overgrown lawn. They would land, hop close to the other, and then take off, quarreling like mad, before calming down for an instant only to repeat the process. Foolish. His teeth clenched.

Striding forward, he crossed the yard quickly. The birds panicked and broke apart, scattering in opposite directions as he passed. When he reached the stoop, he paused, hand lifted towards the door. It wasn’t hesitation - Doflamingo didn’t hesitate - but he listened intently to the inside of the house. He didn’t hear any quick fumbling away from a window. He didn’t hear anything but light footsteps, an uneven, halting gait, from further inside.

He pushed the door open to investigate.

The inside was surprising. _That would probably be a nice word for it_ , Doflamingo thought, examining the interior. The entryway opened into a wide main space that stretched all the way to the back of the house, with a living area that sprawled into a haphazard bedroom on the far side. A huge bay window on the far wall opened up to the backyard and the darkening forest beyond, a bed without any sort of frame shoved just beneath it. A kitchen ate up the wall to his right, complete with an island and two mismatched barstools separating the space from the living area. The light above the wide porcelain sink illuminated the wide room.

Stepping inside, the door squeaked shut behind him. Doflamingo noted three doors along the left wall, the closest to him open to reveal a bathroom. The door furthest away was ajar, but he was unable to discern what was inside. Perhaps an actual bedroom. The middle door, to what he assumed was another bedroom, was firmly closed.

He spotted Jona crossing back and forth in front of the window in the back. She had a mound of bed sheets in her arms, her back to him, busying herself with remaking the oddly placed bed. So she hadn’t been watching him. Somehow this irked Doflamingo even more.

He crossed the red patterned area rug that marked the entryway and sauntered into the living area. There was a two-seater couch upholstered with worn green fabric and a wide armchair that looked to be covered in a dark suede material. A thick blanket had been thrown over the arm of the couch next to a lone free-standing lamp. He noticed that Jona’s bag had been deposited into the seat of the armchair, the cushion depressing beneath its weight. His gaze then dragged across the kitchen island to his right, covered with stacks of papers and other odds-and-ends with zero regard for organization. There were items seemingly tossed about the place, stacked on top of each other, abandoned in a hurry.

He desperately tried to not pay attention to the madness.

Weighing his options, Doflamingo glided forward. After inspecting the couch for several moments, he carefully lowered himself down. He fought valiantly to hide his grimace as pain shot up his wrecked torso as he sat. Leaning back, he stretched his long legs. His slippered toe touched the foot of the armchair. He felt the sudden unreasonable urge to kick it but forced the feeling down.

Upon hearing the complaint of the furniture as he sat, Jona turned quickly from what she was doing. She evaluated him for a moment, an eyebrow arched beneath the bill of her cap, green eyes steady. Then she went back to her task of making the bed.

Doflamingo clicked his tongue.

Despite his better judgement, he allowed himself to relax into the cushions. His body ate up most of the couch, and it complained beneath him whenever he shifted, but he assumed that was due to its age. He was surprised that he couldn’t feel springs poking into his backside. Instead, the worn upholstery and soft cushions hugged him. Not super firm, but not overly soft.

_This will do. For now_ , he thought, closing his eyes.

He heard light padded footsteps cross the wooden floor. They halted just beside him. He waited, listening, keeping his eyes shut.

“Well, I guess I can’t make you sleep on the couch. You barely fit on it now.”

He chuckled and cracked an eye open.

Jona stood with her hands on her hips, barefoot, looking down at him thoughtfully. She chewed on her lip when she was mentally debating something. He’d figured out that much at least. Some tells were easier to spot than others.

“You can have the bed then.” She turned and headed for the kitchen. “At least until you’ve healed up some more. I don’t like sharing my bed.”

Doflamingo grinned wickedly at her back. “You’d love sharing a bed with me.”

She paused, throwing an exasperated glance over her shoulder.

“No matter what state I’m in,” Doflamingo purred. He looked her up and down, openly evaluating all of the important areas as he went, gauging her reaction as he did so. Some women, the ones who foolishly thought that they could make him theirs, would throw themselves at his feet just for the hungry look in his eyes.

It had been a long time since he’d slept with a woman.

Jona squinted at him. It almost looked like a wince.

He waited. He could be patient for some things. He didn’t try to put on any airs or shift his body to make himself look more sultry - he knew the effect that his presence could have, even without the help of Haki.

She surprised him by rolling her eyes and turning her back on him.

Well, that hadn’t happened in a long time.

There hadn’t been a woman unaffected by his advances since he was a gangly, awkward teenager. And even then it didn’t happen often. By then the Donquixote Family had already become well-established and the people of the North Blue knew precisely who he was. Perhaps she just needed a little persuasion. She certainly liked to play the part of ‘tough girl’. He smirked. He knew how to play that particular game.

“What’s the matter, girl? Afraid to have a little fun with a pirate?” He called after her, not moving from his place on the couch. He wouldn’t chase her. Not yet.

“I have a name,” came an almost bored sounding sigh. “And I don’t fuck strangers.”

Doflamingo chuckled. His voice slipped into a deeper register, words more honeyed and sultry. “But we’re not strangers, Jona. You’ve gone to such great lengths to expedite my recovery. And you’ve invited me into your… _home_. I’d say that we know each other well enough.”

“Oh? Is that so?” She wasn’t looking at him. She had crouched down behind the island where he couldn’t see.

Stubborn woman. It wasn’t fun if she wasn’t going to play along. And he was too tired to get up and press the issue. He leaned into the couch, craning his head against the back. He’d let the seed of desire fester, he decided. She’d come to him eventually. This sort of game could be fun, too, but if he got bored he could always take what he wanted.

Rummaging around the kitchen, amidst the clanging of pots and pans, Jona called loudly, "Can I trust you not to burn down my house?"

Brows furrowing, Doflamingo let his head fall in her direction. There was an array of ingredients and utensils strewn about the island, the mess from before shoved to the side in a larger heap. Jona had flipped the bill of her cap back and she was beginning to chop up some vegetables. A lidded pot sat on a lit burner on the stove behind her.

"You expect me to cook?" he asked, incredulous.

"No." The deliberate way she said the word chided him. She didn't look up from her task, knife moving steadily. "But I need to step out. If I get dinner ready, can you pop it in the oven once it's heated?"

"I suppose…?” he said slowly, not fully understanding what was happening. Had he passed out for a minute?

"Good."

Doflamingo watched as she diced and chopped tomatoes, parsley, garlic and onions, the latter of which burned his eyes a bit, even at a distance. She brought out a package of meat from the small refrigerator, beef by the look of it, and threw it and the other ingredients into a bowl. A loaf of bread appeared from one of the rickety cupboards and she ripped it into tiny chunks into the bowl. Using her hands, she mixed everything together, adding a flurry of spices that he couldn't discern what they were into the mix.

Once she was finished, she pulled out a glass dish, setting it out on the island. She turned and lifted the lid on the pot on the stove, inspecting the contents briefly. A warm, savory smell floated into Doflamingo's nose. He didn't know what it was.

He wrinkled his nose, ignoring his rumbling stomach. "What in the hell is that?"

"Sauce."

_Couldn't she be more specific?_ he wondered as he watched her turn the burner off and remove the pot from the stove. She placed it next to the glass dish on top of a crocheted potholder. Taking a handful of the meat concoction, she spread a thick layer on the bottom of the dish. Then she took a ladle and spooned some of the "sauce" on top of it. She repeated the process until the meat mixture was gone, and poured the last of the sauce over top of the final layer. For a moment, Doflamingo thought it would run over the top of the dish, but instead it soaked down into the layers.

Jona wrapped the top in foil, then placed it on top of the stove. She cleared away her mess, placing the used dishes into the sink and wiping down the half of the island that wasn’t covered in stacks of papers. She washed her hands and then strode into the living area.

Picking up her bag, she looked at him sternly, pointing a finger at him. "Oven dings, put the dish in. Don't take the cover off. If I'm not back in an hour, please take it out."

Without giving him a chance to think of a snappy comeback, she headed for the door, slipped on her shoes, and left.

Doflamingo sat in the quiet, staring at the spot on the floor Jona had just occupied. A soft ticking noise reached his ears, barely discernible. The oven, he realized. When was the last time he'd been this close to a kitchen?

He warily eyed the dish on the stovetop.

There was a brief flash of dark anger that made him clench his teeth. How dare some woman order him around? He was a king, dammit. He didn’t make his own food.

Then his stomach growled and the feeling passed like a fleeing tide. He sighed, holding a hand to his abdomen. His belly grumbled again. He glanced at the door behind him, thinking.

Where was she going in such a hurry? Lifting his gaze to look out the wide window on the opposite side of the house, the woods beyond were pitch black. _It must be somewhat safe on this island_ , he observed, _if women just wander about at night_. Leaning his head back, Doflamingo stared up at the ceiling. His mind churned.

He impatiently tried to activate his Devil Fruit powers. He could barely feel his strings, like the fingers of intangible ghosts just beyond his reach. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a child, before he had eaten the String-String Fruit. Not that he couldn’t fend for himself without his powers, given the size and natural strength of his body. But after years of fighting hand-in-hand with his strings, it felt like both of his hands were lashed behind his back. 

His stomach growled. At least something was working.

A loud ding made him flinch.

The quiet hum from the oven changed pitch. He leaned forward, eyeing the device warily. Was that the noise it was supposed to make? He had no idea. He was used to food appearing before him whenever he was hungry, presented by servants who would sweat and fuss the whole time he ate, worried that he would find it not to his liking and punish them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cooked for himself, or anyone else, for that matter.

Carefully pushing himself up, body protesting the whole way, Doflamingo stood. He slowly stalked into the kitchen. A red light on the back panel of the range was lit. _‘Bake'_. The one below that, _‘Pre-Heat’_ was not illuminated.

_Guess that means it's ready._

He lifted the glass dish containing his next meal, vaguely surprised at how heavy it was. He tugged on the long handle just beneath the burner knobs on the stove and heat blasted his face as the wide door opened. He quickly stuck the dish inside the oven and shut the door.

_Well, then. That was simple enough._

He moseyed back to the couch. Lowering himself wasn't as bad as the first time. Once he was settled, he swiveled his head, inspecting the large room. There were quite a few pictures hung along the walls. Photographs of individuals and groups of people he had no way of recognizing. He stared at them for a moment, picking Jona out of a few of them. She was smiling in all of them and appeared to be much younger. From what he could make out, the expression matched nothing that he’d seen on her face in person thusfar.

Leaning back, Doflamingo closed his eyes. He focused on breathing in and out, trying to relax and settle his mind. He had more important things to worry about than that woman. If he could rest in peace, then perhaps his body would heal enough for his powers to return to their full strength. And then he could go and do whatever he pleased.

His stomach growled.

There was that, too.

He must have drifted off, perhaps not quite to what could be called sleep, but when an odd smell assaulted his nose his eyes snapped open. He glanced around wildly. Jona didn’t seem to be back yet.

The smell recaptured his attention. He sniffed the air, confused. _What the… oh._

He rose abruptly and strode towards the kitchen. Reaching the oven, he yanked the door open. Heat blasted him full in the face. The smell was overwhelming - warm, meaty and charred. He almost reached in bare-handed, panic gripping him, then thought better of it. His eyes fell on the countertop, where a towel had been thrown beside the sink. He picked it up and quickly stalked back to the oven. Using the towel as a barrier between his skin and the hot glass, Doflamingo grabbed the dish and extracted it from the heat.

Settling the hot dish on the range, he shut the oven door with his knee. He wasn’t sure how to turn it off. Jona’s instructions had been ridiculously uninformative. He scanned the device, hunting for a clue. When he saw the small switch near the panel of indicator lights, labelled ON, he tried pushing it. The BAKE light winked out, and the quiet hum clicked once before falling silent.

Doflamingo breathed once through his nose. Problem solved.

His stomach complained loudly.

Stooping down, Doflamingo eyed the dish, heat radiating from its contents. The smell worried him. He made to reach for the tinfoil cover, but hesitated. Should he remove it? Would that spoil it somehow? He was very hungry, but he wasn’t sure what to do, the woman’s words tumbling through his brain.

As he deliberated, his ears twitched at the sound of the front door opening. He turned to find Jona stepping inside with a brown, paper-wrapped bundle in her arms.

Seeing him standing beside the oven, Jona wrinkled her nose. “Oh crap.”

She rushed forward, depositing the package on the island, a worry line crossing her brow. She came to a stop very close to Doflamingo, almost pushing him out of the way. With her fingertips, Jona hesitantly tested a loose edge of the tinfoil. When she seemed confident that it wouldn’t burn her, she flicked the cover back. She inspected the hot contents, a reddish-brown mess, with a look of deep concentration.

Doflamingo hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until she breathed a loud sigh of relief.

“It’s not burned, yet!” Jona looked up at him. Her eyes sparkled with amusement from beneath her cap. “What, did you forget that I told you to take it out after an hour?”

Doflamingo frowned at her, straightening. “I fell asleep.”

“Well, that’s fair, I guess.” She replaced the foil over the food. “It should be cool enough to eat in a few minutes.”

“Where did you run off to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the package behind them.

“I had to go and tell my boss that I needed to take the day off again tomorrow. Crispin wanted to tinker with my Transponder Snail, so I had to go in person.” Jona made her way back to the door as she spoke, slipping her jacket off and hanging it up on a nearby hook. She wore a simple black long-sleeve shirt. Doflamingo was mildly surprised to find that she had decently developed breasts. “I also stopped by Goldie and Delico’s to pick up some clothes that would fit you. They only had one shirt and pants about your size, but they said that they’ll make more once they have your measurements. Figured you wouldn’t want to wear that thing for very long.”

Doflamingo glanced down at the maternity gown the quack had stuffed him into, pulling at the loose hem. “It’s not exactly my style, no.”

Jona smiled at that. She gestured to the package before she bent over to unlace her boots. “Hopefully that’s more to your liking.”

Gingerly, Doflamingo picked up the package. It was wrapped with a single piece of twine, expertly tied so that the contents wouldn’t fall out. Slipping a finger around the beautiful knot, he yanked once and the twine snapped, falling to the floor. The paper crinkled loudly as he tore it open in one fluid motion. White fabric greeted his eyes. He pulled out a long white button-down shirt, coupled with a pair of jeans that would seem impossibly long to a normal-sized person.

Eyeing the clothing critically, Doflamingo muttered, “These will work.”

“Still not your style, huh?” Jona asked. There was a touch of disappointment in her voice.

“Clothes aren’t exactly my priority at the moment,” he admitted, stomach grumbling loudly.

Jona laughed, face brightening. “That’s fair. But don’t worry, I’ll feed you.”

Entering the kitchen, Jona reached up into a high cupboard and pulled down two plates. She set them down on the island, on the side closest to the barstools. As she placed silverware on either side of the dishes, Doflamingo slowly approached one of the stools. He sat carefully, testing the durability of the furniture before settling down entirely. He didn’t feel like having anything break underneath him and looking like a fool sprawled on the floor.

Jona brought over their dinner, scooping up a heaping pile of the steaming food onto the plate in front of him. The smell wafted up to his nose. His stomach grumbled appreciatively, even though he couldn’t quite make out what the dish was supposed to be. He noticed that Jona gave herself only a small portion, tiny in comparison to his, but didn’t say anything.

He waited until she came around to sit in the seat beside him. He was so large that the island seemed minuscule, and Jona had to scoot her stool to the edge to avoid his elbows and knees. Picking up a fork, she shoveled a bit of the food onto the utensil and drew it up to her mouth. She ate it, chewing for a moment, then swallowing. She smiled up at him pointedly after a few more bites.

“It’s not poisoned.”

He chuckled once. “If you say so.”

He picked up his own fork and poked at the mound of food before him. It smelled alright. He could find no evidence of his near-blunder of burning it, so he scooped up a forkful of it. He popped it into his mouth. Savory flavor exploded on his tongue. As he swallowed, his belly warmed.

_It will do,_ he decided, going in for more.

They ate in silence. Doflamingo scarfed down his plate well before Jona managed to make it through half of hers. She stopped to set her fork down and scoop more onto his plate. Once he started eating again, she resumed her own methodical chewing. He finished his second plate just before she finished her first helping.

“Is it really poisoned and you’re just trying to outpace me, or did I ruin it somehow?” he quizzed her, raising a brow. He really didn’t feel like forcing it back up, but Magellan had played similar games with him before. It never ended well for either of them, but Doflamingo hadn’t been the one with the Venom-Venom Fruit abilities.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” she said around a bite. She waved him off. “You should be eating more than me anyway, given your injuries. Don’t worry about it.”

“Again, that doesn’t instill much confidence.”

Jona sighed, almost sounding defeated. He noticed the tired lines beneath her eyes. “I’m just savoring mine. Normally, I’d save some for lunch or dinner for tomorrow.”

“What?”

“You know, leftovers?”

Doflamingo didn’t comprehend the term. She raised an eyebrow. Then she laughed, an exhausted sound. Pushing back from the island, Jona stood and collected her dishes. Doflamingo felt that he could eat another helping, but didn’t say anything as he stared down at his empty plate. 

Taking her plate to the sink, she reached beneath the pile of dishes and messed around until there was a click sound. Then she turned on the faucet. Reaching into the cupboard under the sink, she grabbed a bottle of soap and a dish rag. As she started to scrub the mountain of dishes, she glanced over her shoulder.

“You can finish that up,” she motioned towards the remaining meatloaf with her chin. “I’m done eating.”

Doflamingo didn’t need to be told twice. He reached forward and heaved the last of the food onto his plate.

When he was finished, Jona walked over, suds up to her elbows and snatched the dishes from him. He watched her work for a few minutes. There was something about the way she stood that entranced him. He followed the curve of her backside with his eyes, trailing her up and down slowly. His belly wasn’t even close to full, but it was warm and happily digesting real food. 

It made him feel bold.

Doflamingo rose up from the stool, stretching to his full height. He stalked around the island, stepping surely but silently until he came to a halt just behind the girl. As if sensing a presence behind her, Jona turned. She flinched upon finding a large body behind her, then looked up into his face. He grinned and loomed over her, taking a step closer. She turned her body around to face him, back pressing into the sink. The faucet was still running. He took another step, his hip pressing against her. She tried to lean away but there was nowhere for her to go.

“How about dessert?”

Jona’s eyes darkened. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He chuckled and leaned down, wrapping a hand around her waist. “I’m doing what I want.”

As his face came closer to hers, Jona stared ahead, as if through him. Something crossed her eyes that he couldn’t make out. Her jaw worked as she clenched her teeth.

“You don’t want me,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t want me,” she repeated, her voice turning to steel. “Not really.”

He guffawed. “True. I would prefer someone with a more…shapely body. And longer hair. But you’ll do for now.”

He forcefully pressed his lips against hers, hungry in a different way. The woman struggled against him, but she had nowhere to go, trapped between his massive frame and the sink behind her. He forced her mouth open, free hand reaching up to roughly grab her scalp to hold her head in place, hat toppling to the floor. The golden strands of hair glittered in the light, the red shining like copper. It was very, very soft against his fingers.

As he pushed forward, she gasped in pain as she bent backwards into the sink, and his tongue claimed her mouth. He could feel her breath catch and it made him chuckle. She was just like the rest. Pretending to be strong, willful, but really just another hopeless human, slave to her body’s desires. A toy for him to play with.

Then she bit down on his tongue. Hard.

Surprised, Doflamingo tried to jerk away. Her jaw clamped down tighter, and he could taste a coppery burst of blood. He squeezed the back of her head, fingernails digging into her scalp. When she still wouldn’t let go, he released his hold of her waist and cuffed her upside the head. She gasped and let go.

Stumbling back a step, Doflamingo gingerly explored his tongue with his fingers. The bite didn’t feel very deep. Already he could taste less of his own blood. He glared at her. Veins popped along his forehead as his rage stoked. A large hand snaked out as she recovered from the slap, latching onto her face. She cried out as his nails dug into her skin.

“Do. Not. Do. That. Again.” Doflamingo spat in her face, fingers squeezing after every word. Her eyes glared back at him, defiant. It pissed him off even more. He wrenched her to the side, letting go of her face. She slammed into the countertop, chest-first, hard enough for the wind to be knocked from her lungs.

He made no move to approach as he watched her sink down to the floor, struggling to catch her breath. She wrapped her arms protectively around her chest as she curled in on herself. A sneer crossed his features. He was tempted to kick her, but he controlled himself.

“Let that be a lesson to you.”

Doflamingo stalked away from her. He half-expected some sort of retort, but no biting words followed him as he crossed the room and made for the bed. 

He sniffed at it. There was no headboard, and the frame was just simple metal holding the large, lumpy-looking mattress above the floor. The top of it just barely came to his knees. The fresh sheets the woman had placed on it earlier where white with a thick knitted comforter thrown across the length. He was certain his feet would dangle over the edge when he laid down.

The sound of the water faucet shutting off caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Jona, standing, her back to him, bent over the sink. A hand gripped the faucet handle tightly, while the other was still clutched her chest. Doflamingo clicked his tongue. He dismissed the pain she’d brought upon herself, wincing as he dragged his injured tongue across the back of his teeth. She deserved the punishment. 

He dropped to the mattress, the springs complaining under his weight. As he stretched out on his back, he looked out the wide window that took up the majority of the wall. A pale crescent moon hung overhead, peeking out from behind the tops of some trees. Stars winked across the dark blue sky. There were no clouds that he could see. Not a bad sight to behold as he began to drift off to sleep.

Padding footsteps stalled that idea.

Shifting onto his side and propping his head up with his elbow, Doflamingo watched as Jona silently walked through the house. She moved slowly, cautiously. She picked up her bag and made her way towards the ajar door nearest the bed. He couldn’t make out any of the dark shapes inside. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she slipped into the room, the door closing behind her. A light flicked on, shining from the crack near the floor. He strained to listen as things bumped around. What was she doing now?

When Jona remerged, the light disappearing before the door reopened, she had changed out her day clothes for a pair of sweatpants and a loose, too-big T-shirt. She clicked the door shut behind her, still not looking at Doflamingo. In the dim light, he could make out a circle of blossoming bruises on her face. She then padded barefoot to the bathroom and shut the door. Water began to run.

She remained inside for a long time.

As he waited and listened, Doflamingo’s rage slowly abated. He laughed once at his own expense. _I suppose I deserved that_ , he thought to himself, twisting his tongue to probe the light cuts from Jona’s teeth. He’d been impatient.

Perhaps she wasn’t too far off the mark when she’d said that he hadn’t really wanted her. If he truly had been unable to control his urges, he would have fucked her over the counter right then and there. Instead, he’d let her go. Without killing or maiming her. He chalked it up to not feeling like his normal self, his body still healing, powers still dormant.

The bathroom door opened and Jona reappeared. When she still didn’t look at him as she crossed the living room, Doflamingo called out to her.

“If you’re done pouting, you may come here and sleep with me,” he patted the bed with his free hand. “As long as you behave, that is.”

Jona looked at him then, coming to a halt near the light switch by the door. Her eyes looked almost dead. She stared right through him. The small bruises on her face were like five shadowy accusations. Without a word, she flicked the lights out. 

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he heard the door lock. Then the dark shape of the woman crossed the room, picked up a blanket and wrapped herself in it, and dropped onto the couch. Once he could somewhat see properly in the dim moonlight, he realized that her back was turned to him, curled up on the cushions. 

He humphed and rolled over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahh it's been a hot minute, but we're back! Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos so far - I really appreciate them! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Just a general warning b/c I'm terrible at updating the tags: there's some bad stuff a-brewing. I'll do my best to post a warning for anything graphic. For now, enjoy Jerkmingo despite my sloppy writing.
> 
> Thank you!

The next morning Jona awoke with a painful gasp. She had rolled in her sleep and pressed her intensely sore side into the hard edge of the couch. She hissed and gingerly sat up. Pulling up the hem of her shirt, she found dark splotches blossoming across her skin. She lightly poked a finger at the blackened mass and winced. She sucked in a deep breath as tears welled in her eyes, then angrily dashed them away with the back of her hand, shirt falling back into place. Scanning the room, her narrowed eyes came to a rest on the long figure draped across her bed.

Joker’s chest rose and fell in deep even breaths. He’d tossed the blanket away during the night, pooled in a heap on the floor. The gray early morning light cast soft shadows over his tanned face and neck. Unlike most people, his face didn’t completely relax in his sleep. His brows were lightly furrowed together, creating a deep line between them.

One of his hands were draped over the edge of the mattress. The same one that he’d grabbed her face with the night before. As Jona stared at it, the five spots on her head throbbed.

_“Let that be a lesson to you.”_ That deep, angry voice echoed in her head. The memory made her tremble. 

Jona had been surprised that he hadn’t tried to kill her, or at least finished what he’d started. She had been completely at his mercy. And she knew that she was completely powerless against him, despite his injuries. The bruises she bore were proof enough of that. Perhaps Mutsu had been right, that Jona was crazy.

Wincing, she stood as quietly as possible, wrapping the blanket around herself and over her head like a toddler. She padded towards the bathroom and flicked the light switch. The small round mirror above the pedestal sink illuminated with a flash as the lone bulb in the center of the ceiling winked to life. Stepping up to the mirror, Jona inspected her face. Wisps of red and gold hair poked out at odd angles from beneath the blanket. Dark circles from a fitful night’s sleep framed her eyes.

Leaning in closer to the glass, she stared hard at the five finger-shaped bruises that adorned her face. Four encircled her forehead and cheekbones like a wide tiara. A purplish thumbprint decorated her cheek, the edges already turning yellow. She groaned inwardly. She was going to have to use a _lot_ of cover-up. And she hated wearing makeup on her days off. Not to mention it was expensive and she hated wasting it more than anything else.

Taking a small step back from the sink, Jona straightened and took a deep, measured breath. Her chest inflated beneath the blanket. Immediately, she gasped when a sharp pain protested the movement and she released the breath. Gingerly she rubbed at the sore spot, and took a few more tentative breaths. After a few minutes, she determined that her ribs may have been cracked from the force of being shoved into the hard counter. At least nothing felt entirely broken. Thankfully. 

The last thing she needed was to hear an “I told you so” speech from Dr. Mutsu.

_You’ve felt worse,_ she reminded herself. She forced a determined smile, but her reflection didn’t seem convinced by the expression. _At least it wasn’t_ him _this time._

Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, Jona poked her head slowly around the bathroom door. Once she was certain that Joker was still fast asleep, she made her way into the kitchen. 

She hadn’t been able to finish washing the dishes after their little encounter, the sink now full of ice-cold dingy water and the few remaining dishes. She plunged a hand into the water and pulled the stopper out from the drain, watching the grime flow away.

Wiping her hand on a towel hanging from the oven door handle, Jona went about her morning ritual of preparing coffee. Coffee could always make her feel better. She filled the carafe under the faucet, flinching when it sputtered loudly. She whipped around, fearful, but the blond man didn’t stir. 

Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she deposited the pot on the stove and flicked on a burner. From a cupboard she pulled down a canister of coffee grounds, spooning the grains into the percolator. She waited, staring at the coffee pot as it began to brew, inhaling the delectable scent that brightened the air. Her chest complained a bit as she did so, but she did her best to ignore it.

When steam began to rise from the spout, Jona hunted for a mug in the cupboards, selecting the biggest she could find. She needed a lot of coffee today. Spooning up two helpings of sugar from one of the jars beside the stove and into the mug, Jona poured the hot dark liquid, letting the sugar swirl on its own. Then she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of cream. She poured it until the cup was almost completely full and then stirred it with a spoon.

A sleepy groan from behind startled her.

Before she could turn, two long arms appeared on either side of her field of vision. A body stood close behind but not quite touching hers, heat radiating into her through the blanket. The enormous hands reached around her and picked up the mug she had prepared for herself. She inclined her head, widened eyes following as the hands drew the steaming coffee overhead and to the waiting lips of Joker. He towered over her. Dread gripped her stomach. He sniffed the drink and then took a huge gulp.

“I hope you burn your tongue.”

The corner of his lips twitched. “There’s too much cream in this coffee.”

“Make your own then,” Jona retorted, surprising herself. Her hands shook as she reached up into the cupboard for another mug.

“Hmmm.” He made an almost appreciative sound as he took another swig. 

His chin suddenly rested on top of her head, an arm wrapping around her shoulders, possessively. Jona was thankful for the blanket barrier between her skin and his. Her insides twisted as he touched her, as if nothing had happened the previous night. She steeled herself, forcing her body to continue going through the familiar motions of pouring herself another cup despite the constricting weight of his arm. 

He didn’t seem like the type to let her go, even if she asked.

When she’d finished, he still didn’t release her, drinking over her head. She sighed inwardly. He was quite possibly the worst houseguest ever, and that was a gross understatement. 

She lifted her new mug to her lips and drank, ignoring the scalding heat on her tongue. The liquid warmth flowed down to her center, and she could hear a distant hallelujah chorus. The world brightened, however slightly, and the sickening feeling in her gut dissipated. She sighed, ignoring everything except for the way that the coffee lifted her spirits and soothed her soul.

Above her, the blonde man chuckled. He waved the empty mug in front of her face. “I’m out.”

“Like I said,” she ducked out from under his arm, “make your own.”

Jona made her way quickly back to the living room, curling up into the armchair and tucking her feet underneath the blanket. She wanted to become a warm little ball and forget the world for a moment. To try to completely forget the pain and soreness. To forget the troubles hanging over her head like a terrible weight. To forget him.

The couch groaned and Jona opened her eyes to find Joker sitting across from her. His legs spread out wide, stretching out towards her. Steam waifed anew from the refilled mug in his hand. His blue eyes watched her from over the lip of the mug as he took a long drink.

She felt like a small sparrow caught in the gaze of a bored hawk. There was a playful glint in his eyes. But Jona had no intention of playing his games. She honestly wondered if he could even see her clearly at this distance, as he wasn’t wearing the glasses she’d given him the previous day. Ignoring his wicked smile, she took another sip of her coffee and looked out the window behind him.

Already people were beginning to mill about up and down the street, heading either for the orchards further inland or the shopping district. Jona was thankful that Mr. Pink had given her a second day off in a row - he had heard plenty about her guest through the grapevine. He was a considerate man, despite most people accusing him of being a coward, and she appreciated his kindness.

As she watched, allowing the warmth of her drink to seep into her fingers, a figure passed close by her fence. They looked intently towards the house as they came to a stop. She immediately recognized the familiar lanky frame and cap of dark bronze hair. She waved at Crispin and he waved back, smiling as he caught the motion. 

Jona hoped that he couldn’t see the bruises on her face from this distance. He was protective of her, but she knew that he wouldn’t stand a chance against Joker if it came to blows. It had happened before, a long time ago. She didn’t feel like seeing history repeat itself. Or having Crispin wind up in the hospital, broken beyond repair.

Joker followed her gaze, glowering once he realized there was someone waving the gate. When he caught sight of the large blonde man’s withering gaze, Crispin’s smile faltered, twisting into a wary frown. He gave a two-fingered salute and continued on his way.

“Who is that?” Joker demanded.

“That was Crispin,” Jona said carefully, shielding her lips with the mug. She didn’t like his possessive tone. It made her shiver. “He’s a handyman. We’ve been friends since we were little. He helped rescue you.”

Joker lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He continued to guzzle down his coffee. Jona’s eyes flicked to the man’s wrists.

“We need to change those bandages,” she observed.

Raising a hand to eye level, Joker inspected the gauze wrapped around his wrist. It had yellowed patches here and there. His expression turned into a scowl. He muttered something under his breath that Jona couldn’t quite catch. Something about strings?

“What?”

He frowned at her, saying nothing. He simply let his hand fall to his lap and swallowed the last of his coffee, glowering into some middle distance between them.

After a few minutes of silence, Jona ventured, “Do you want to take a shower first, or do you want me to just re-bandage everything now?”

“So impatient.” He craned his head back, gaze trained on the ceiling. “Can’t you just enjoy the morning?”

_Not with a crazy person in my house,_ she thought warily. She took another sip of coffee. “It’s just that those look like they hurt and should be changed. They won’t heal properly if you don’t take care of it.”

He laughed once, a hallow sound, but still made no indication that he was going to move. Jona waited, drinking slowly, half afraid to move from the relative safety of the armchair, half curious to see if he would stir. When her coffee was gone and he had still not moved, she reluctantly stood. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and she shivered.

She took a cautious step towards the man, taking care to avoid his outstretched leg. Rising up on her tiptoes, she noted that his eyes were closed. His breathing had deepened. Had he fallen asleep?

Shrugging inwardly, Jona tiptoed to the bathroom, trying to be as stealthy as possible. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, making sure that he hadn’t moved. He remained fast asleep.

She held her breath as she slipped inside of the bathroom, not releasing the air until the latch clicked softly behind her. She flicked the lock on the knob. After what had happened last night, she didn’t trust him.

Not a single bit.

Doflamingo opened his eyes to find the armchair vacated. Scanning the room and not immediately seeing the woman, he sat forward, ignoring the way his sore body complained at the jerking motion. Listening intently, he heard the soft rushing of water from behind a closed door. He glanced around, then noticed the bathroom door was shut.

The girl was showering instead of taking care of his injuries, he realized. It was just as well. She had looked like shit, from what he could see without those ill-fitting glasses. They had given him an absurd headache the previous night, so he had left them on the windowsill beside the bed.

Setting the empty mug down on the floor, Doflamingo took a second look at his wrists. The bandages did need to be changed, but he was certain that they needed to be thoroughly cleaned first. Damn sea prism stone. What a hateful material.

Looking up from his damaged limbs to the closed door, Doflamingo wondered how long the girl had been inside. He didn’t recall giving her permission to do so. And he hadn’t remembered falling asleep, it had just happened. It had always been hard for him to sleep at night. Memories he longed to keep buried deep inside always seemed to claw their way back to the surface and plague his dreams. A night never went by that he didn’t have nightmares, and last night had been no different. Except for the flashes of his mother’s dying smile, telling him to be a good boy. 

That was a new, definitely unwanted, addition to his dreams.

Standing up, Doflamingo found himself stalking towards the bathroom door. His hand reached out, testing the knob. It stopped mid-turn. Locked. He chuckled to himself. _Smart girl._

Then he frowned as he stared down at the doorknob. He lifted his hand away, flexing and curling his fingers. Pulling on his strings. He could just barely feel them, but they were there. Excitement stirred within his belly, like a low flame igniting. Furrowing his brow, Doflamingo strained, trying to draw up his power. It was a simple thing really, unlocking a door - he’d done it so many times that, under different circumstances, it was as natural as breathing - but now sweat beaded on his forehead as he urged a single, thin strand to separate from his body.

He felt like a child again, a brand new Devil Fruit user, not yet used to his powers.

When he finally succeeded in drawing out a string, he smiled like a fool. He tried to propel the string into the near-invisible crack between the knob and the wood of the door, and it felt like he would pass out. He almost growled in frustration, but he swallowed it, deepening his concentration.

After what felt like an eternity, the string slipped into the hollow space where the inner mechanism of the lock was housed. Closing his eyes, Doflamingo followed the path of the string with his mind’s eye, taking stock of how the lock worked, probing for the trigger that would release it. When he found it, it took a huge effort to force the string to strengthen and push.

It was absolute agony. He felt the blood rush from his face at the strain.

The lock clicked.

The string immediately broke and disappeared into nothing.

Sweat dripped down Doflamingo’s back. A grin spread across his face, a small victory. It would take time, more than he’d anticipated, but he could restore his powers. 

The sound of running water stopped. A curtain drew back on the opposite side of the door. He waited, listening intently as bare feet padded around in the small space. When his breathing evened out, he placed a hand on the knob and turned it, pushing the door inward.

As the door opened, Jona’s head whipped up, water dripping from her drenched bangs. She froze in front of a mirror attached to the wall above a white sink. There was a towel halfway wrapped around her naked body. Doflamingo’s eyes drank her in. His grin widened and he made to take a step further inside when he paused.

Dark, angry splotches adorned the otherwise unblemished skin around Jona’s ribcage that wasn’t covered by the towel. The edges of the bruise were starting to turn a greenish purple. It was fuzzy, but even without the glasses, he had no trouble seeing how bad the damage was. It must have been painful.

As a blind rage started to build in Doflamingo’s chest, laughter bubbled past his lips. The sound sputtered when he remembered throwing the woman into the counter. His eyes flashed to her face, immediately picking out the five finger-sized bruises encircling her startled expression.

As he hesitated, Jona’s face turned bright red and she hastily clutched the towel tighter, covering herself. “GET OUT.”

In response, an uncontrollable burst of laughter exploded from his throat. Doflamingo raised the heel of his hand to his left eye, which had begun to pulse in agitation, as he took a halting step forward. It was all the distance he needed to cover to tower over the woman. She blanched as his shadow fell across her. A frightened step back made her bump into the edge of the raised shower platform and she stumbled.

Doflamingo’s free hand snaked out and grabbed her by the throat, arresting her fall. Jona whimpered sharply, hands instinctively latching onto his, clawing desperately. The towel fell from her body, leaving her completely exposed. He cocked his head to the side and studied her as she struggled.

Removing his hand from his twitching eye, Doflamingo tenderly probed the ugly black spot just beneath her bare breasts. An almost electric surge thrilled his fingertips as they connected with her skin. A thousand tiny strands whipped into a frenzy within his fingers, causing him to freeze in surprise. Jona winced at the touch, her body flinching back in an attempt to retreat from his hand.

Anger flared inside of Doflamingo. He squeezed her neck tighter, her throat so small and fragile encased in his giant hand. Her pulse was jumping like mad against his palm. He pressed his hand fully against the bruise, completely consumed by the feeling of his strings coming alive. 

_What is this?_ He growled inwardly.

Suddenly, he could see within Jona’s body in his mind’s eye. It was a similar sensation to when he looked inside himself whenever he needed to heal an internal injury, watching as his strings stitched himself back together. When he was younger, he’d been fascinated by the process, spending hours after fights looking within himself as organs and bones laced and repaired themselves. He could see the interior of Jona’s flesh as thousands of his strings threaded throughout the wounded tissue, as if completely without his input. Doflamingo didn’t realize that they were looking for something until they reached her ribs.

There were several hairline cracks on the curved bones, the surrounding tissue soft and torn. The healing process had begun for her flesh, but the bones hadn’t yet begun to heal. With a start, he wondered how much pain she was in from the near-invisible fissures. They could break with just the right amount of pressure.

The thought sent a wave of nausea through Doflamingo. He felt dizzy. Caught in a strange and sickened stupor, his strings threaded deep into the pearly bones. They multiplied as they stitched and pulled the cracks taut. A hundred thousand minuscule threads sealed the breaks, constricting until they were harder than diamond as they broke away from his power.

An odd glowing thrill pulsed throughout Doflamingo’s being. As his strings broke and retreated, his grip unconsciously loosened around Jona’s neck. She wrenched from his grasp, choking and sputtering as she fell to the ground. Dazed, Doflamingo followed her fall, his extremities tingling. He felt lightheaded as she coughed and clutched at the towel, moisture sparkling at the corner of her eye as she tried to cover herself. Her hand gingerly caressed her throat.

Deep red marks encircled the soft, pale flesh.

An angry growl rippled from Doflamingo’s lips. His neck muscles bunched, tension building in waves. His left eyelid began to spasm. He desperately pressed the heel of his hand back to the eye.

What was happening to him?

From the ground, Jona peered up at him, her green eyes harder than steel. Her voice, despite sounding like she had suddenly smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day, was cold as ice.

“Get. Out. _Now_.”

Doflamingo stepped back, confusion at his own emotions and actions forcing him to oblige. He retreated from the bathroom, never turning his back on Jona. He pulled the door shut, gripping the doorknob painfully tight, staring into the wood grain. After a moment he forced his hand to let go and he brought it shakily up to his face. His wrists and ankles itched as angry heat seeped through his skin, but he didn’t understand.

He was angry with himself. But why? What could he have possibly done?

As he struggled to calm down, he remained rooted to the spot in front of the bathroom. He didn’t dare move. He wanted to break things. He needed to destroy something, anything. Pour these strange feelings into fiery rage and smash it to bits with his fists and stamp it beneath his feet.

And he also wanted to get violently ill.

And he couldn’t even feel a whisper of his strings anymore.

When the door cracked open, Doflamingo felt himself flinch.

Jona peered out at him through the crack. There was a blush on her face, freckles black dots against the deep crimson. An uneasiness glimmered in her dark green eyes as they locked with his.

“Can you step back?” When he did nothing, hand still covering his face, she asked in a hushed tone, “Please?”

Hand dropping to his side, Doflamingo backed up until he bumped into the back of the armchair. He tracked her movement intently as she cautiously opened the door further, then quickly shuffled down to the room furthest away. She glanced warily over her shoulder at him before she disappeared inside. He heard the lock click. Then something heavy bumped into the door. She must have blockaded it with something.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Doflamingo ran a hand through his too-long hair, pulling the bangs from his eyes. Something was wrong with him. He’d only felt these strange, almost primal emotions a few times in his life. Once when each of his biological family members had died. When the villagers had tortured his brother, father and himself. And when Straw Hat Luffy had sent that final punch into his face at the battle for Dressrosa.

After a long time, the shaking started to subside. Still feeling the odd pitch in his gut, Doflamingo made himself step forward. He entered the still steamed up bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him. The mirror was fogged up now, but it caused an unbidden image of those terrible bruises on Jona’s skin to flash in his mind’s eye. He clenched his teeth, tamping down on the twisting of his stomach.

_She deserved it,_ he reminded himself angrily. She was nothing but a weak human. A commoner. Worthless trash.

And yet, he’d mended her bones. It was something he had never done to another person before. Not even for his own Family members.

Trying to forget the encounter, he stripped, dropping the maternity gown into a pile beside Jona’s discarded clothes. He gingerly pulled at the edges of the bandages on first his wrists, then the ones wrapped around his torso and abdomen, and then finally the ones around his ankles. He studied each injury in turn, assessing the damage. He pressed a hand experimentally to his side, right along a wide gash that was sewed up neatly with an expert hand.

No strings tingled within his fingertips. There was no jolt of purpose or surge of life. Nothing.

_This shower is going to hurt like a motherfucker,_ Doflamingo thought, setting his jaw.

He ducked under the rod that held up the shower curtain and flicked it shut. He was too tall for the space as expected, his head only a few inches from the ceiling, but the shower head was placed fairly high. He stooped down, eyeing the handle, trying to decode which direction he needed to turn it in order to switch the water on. After a moment, he pulled it towards him and cold water flooded onto his bare shoulders. He flinched back and turned the handle first to the left - which only made it colder - and then finally got hot water when he turned it to the right.

He let the near-scalding water warm up his frozen shoulders and run down his head and back. His bunched muscles relaxed as warmth seeped into his skin. When it reached the open sores on his ankles and wrists, however, a hiss escaped through gritted teeth. He inched the handle back to the left, cooling the water down to a temperature that he could bear. 

Then, steeling himself, he grabbed the bar of soap sitting on a little alcove. And began to scrub. Hard.


	9. Chapter 9

When Jona pushed the dresser back away from the studio door, she could hear water running in the bathroom. Still, she carefully peered out into the main part of the house, making sure that Joker wasn’t loitering anywhere close by. Convinced that he was in the bathroom, she exited the studio, closing the door firmly behind her. Unconsciously, her hand lifted to her throat. The heat and pressure from his hand still pulsed from her skin.

She shouldn’t have brought him home. She really was a fool.

But as she walked towards the kitchen island, where the clothes she’d brought home for Joker the night before still rested, her chest felt…odd. Gingerly, she pressed a hand to her side above the blackened bruise. Breathing deeply, she tried to feel for anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing. If anything, she felt better than she had the day before, at least where her ribs were concerned. The bruise was still tender, but there wasn’t even a remnant of the deep soreness from earlier. Jona frowned as she picked up the clothing, eyes trained on the silvery white buttons of the shirt as she thought.

Had Joker done something when he’d touched her?

No, she shook her head. That was crazy. She really was loosing her mind.

Padding towards the bathroom, Jona realized that the door was wide open. She halted just before it, listening, unable to see inside from the way she’d approached along the wall. When the water shut off, she raised a hand and knocked on the doorframe, not peering in.

“What?” Came an irritated growl laced with pain.

She hesitated, looking down at the bundle in her hands, the called, “I have those new clothes for you.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then the scraping sound of the curtain drawing back caused her to look up. The man ducked his head through the doorway and stepped out from the room. Jona let out a surprised yelp as she saw nothing but bare skin, rippling abdominal muscles glistening with rivulets of water. Heat flaring in her cheeks, she made to turn away before realizing that he had a towel wrapped around his midriff. His long legs and chest dripped with condensation. 

Jona’s brows knit together as she took in the stitched incisions that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. They looked like they were healing, but still red and puckered around the edges. They weren’t nearly as angry looking as the sores around his wrists and ankles, though. She tried not to dwell on how fast her heart was beating in her chest at the sight of him. Instead, she forced the image of the malicious, predatory look on his face as he’d nearly choked the life from her.

Joker took the clothes from her hands after a brief pause, then turned to go back into the bathroom to change. He didn’t say a word.

“Oh, don’t put the shirt on yet,” Jona called in after him. “I think we should wrap your incisions again. They look like they could need it yet.”

“I just scrubbed them too hard,” came a harsh reply, voice like gravel. “They’ll be fine once the air gets to them.”

Jona crossed her arms. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Joker reappeared, ducking out of the bathroom in a fresh plume of steam. He had pulled the dark pants on, which were almost like capris on his long legs and a smidge too tight, and was throwing the white button-down shirt over his shoulders. He didn’t button any of the buttons, however, instead leaving the garment to flap open loosely and reveal the injuries in question.

He looked down his nose at her. “I said they’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” she threw up her hands as she walked away from him.

In an attempt to suppress the sudden trembling of her hands, Jona busied herself by searching for the kit Dr. Mutsu had given her the day before. Once she’d found the box, hidden beneath some papers on the counter beside the front door, she stalked into the living room and pointed at the couch. She tried to keep the shaking from her voice, an echo of his crazed laugh from earlier looping through her eardrums.

“Sit.”

Flicking his wet bangs from his eyes, Joker marched towards her and plopped down on the couch. His long legs stretched out and he eyed the nasty sores on his ankles. He limply rested his hands on his lap so that the tender skin of his wrists didn’t touch any fabric. Jona couldn’t imagine how badly it must have hurt to clean those wounds, and was momentarily relieved that she hadn’t had to do the unpleasant task. She watched the way Joker’s jaw worked for a moment, the muscle tight, and then took a deep breath. Settling down on her knees, Jona lifted the lid on the medical kit and pulled out a jar of salve and gauze rolls. Taking a packet of disinfecting wipes, she looked up from the ankle closest to her to the man’s face. 

“This is going to probably sting,” she warned, her voice surprisingly soft. She scolded herself mentally. _Why are you being nice to him? He basically tried to kill you. Twice!_

Joker set his jaw before leaning his head back against the couch. “Just get it over with.”

Ripping the packet open, Jona carefully pressed the wipe to the ravaged skin. Joker tensed immediately, but he didn’t otherwise move or make a sound. Working quickly, Jona cleansed the skin and then applied the salve Dr. Mutsu had given her. She noted the slight minty smell as she swiped it across the sore, feeling a slight cooling tingle from the substance on her fingers. She glanced up at the man’s face, and saw him watching her intently with those icy blue eyes. It was perhaps more disconcerting than his terrible toothy grins. Picking up a roll of gauze, she tore her gaze away, refocusing on the task at hand. As she wrapped the wound, she asked him if it felt too tight. He said nothing, so she crawled on her hands and knees to the other ankle.

When she had finished wrapping his ankles, she debated on standing up, but then decided that it would be easier for her to attend to his wrists from the floor. She scooted closer, his legs drawing up on either side of her like thick bars, and she rested back on her heels. He held his hands out towards her, palms facing upwards. Jona found herself fascinated by the massive size of them as she worked. The bruises on her face, which she had spent a few minutes covering with concealer while she had dressed, twinged, a reminder that those hands could be very, very dangerous.

And yet, as often as she had felt like she were cornered by a deadly predator, Jona felt strangely at ease. His presence enveloped her, as if his legs were like a protective cage and she were a small bird. She didn’t look up at him as she tended to first one wrist and then the other, but she could feel the weight of his eyes on her face, searching for something. The trembling ebbed as she spread a thick salve across the sores, her breathing deep and easy, free from any pain.

When Jona finished, she sat back, looking up at him. “How does that feel? If they’re too tight or too loose, you need to tell me so I can fix them.”

Clenching and unclenching his hands as he stared at the bandages, Joker grunted, “They’ll do.”

Jona fought back an eyeroll. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and said, “Alright then.”

As she pushed back to stand, stretching out her stiff knees, Joker reached up and tenderly touched her right side, just below her breast. She flinched at the unwelcome touch, the bruise beneath her shirt flaring with pain. She tried to jerk away from him, but he inched forward to the edge of the couch, following her movement. His hand fully pressing against her, Joker leaned in, face mere inches from hers. His pale blond brows furrowed beneath his bangs and she froze, momentarily stunned by the confusion in his blue eyes.

Seeing the look on her face, Joker dropped his hand as if he’d been burned. He didn’t say anything, but looked even more upset. His jaw worked, staring at the spot his hand had been. He grunted, “Does it hurt?”

Jona hesitated, then said honestly, “I’ve had worse.”

His head jerked up, cold blue eyes boring into hers. “What do you mean?”

The dark edge to his voice made her feel incredibly nervous. She tried to shrug it off. “Just that I’ve had worse injuries than this. Kind of comes with the territory, working in the orchards for my whole life. Accidents happen.”

His eyes narrowed, disbelief plain on his face. “That’s not what you meant.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s not what I asked.”

“Yes it is.”

He growled, canines bared. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off with a tired smile.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. What’s done is done.” Jona took a step away from him, stooping to gather up the medical supplies. “But if you’re feeling bad, you can always apologize.”

He frowned at her. She wondered if he understood the concept of saying you were sorry to someone. Or if he had ever uttered those kinds of words before. To anyone. Ever.

Taking the box and placing it back on the counter, she announced, “Let’s get some breakfast.”

“You’re not going to make me anything?” He asked in mock indignation. His lips curled back, revealing pearly white teeth.

“Not after you stole my coffee,” she snapped back. Snatching her hat from the counter, Jona headed for the door, pulling the bill down tightly. “Come on.”

Waiting for the giant man to decide to exit the house, Jona stretched carefully as she stepped out into the sunshine. She twisted her torso experimentally, but no sudden pain forced her to stop the movement. Birds chirped from the trees surrounding the house. The sounds of the awakened town filled the air. When she felt a shadow pass over her, Jona turned on her heel and locked the front door, slipping the key into her jacket pocket. Then, without waiting to see if Joker would follow, she headed for the gate and strode down the street.

She waved politely at the few people still meandering about, most retired, strolling along and admiring the beauty of the changing colors of the leaves. Jona smiled as the wind caused a small tornado of fallen leaves to whirl down the street. Harvest time would soon be upon the island. Everyone would be busy. And the annual festival was the highlight of the year. Jona glanced behind her, briefly wondering if her frightening guest would stick around long enough to see it.

Joker was a few paces behind her, hunched slightly, his long legs rolling with an odd gait, almost bow-legged. An image of a tall water bird flashed through Jona’s mind as she watched him. She bit her lip as a giggle bubbled up her throat at the thought. He didn’t catch the sound, thankfully, too engrossed in sizing up each building and house that they passed. He had put back on the glasses she’d given him, though he still squinted at his surroundings every now and again. The white shirt flapped as he walked, the injuries on his chest on open display like angry red badges of pride.

Catching her look, Joker’s chin jut towards her in an accusatory pout. Jona couldn’t help but laugh. She tried to cover her mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking. She came to a halt.

“What?” he growled, stopping beside her.

“You just look so serious,” she giggled, voice dropping into a lower register on the last word. Sobering, she looked up at him, squinting into the morning sun that glared behind him like a halo. She breathed deeply and felt no pain. Smiling, she said, “Thank you.”

Joker inclined his head in a quick flash of surprise before looking away with a scowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I missed this chapter somehow and almost skipped it...next chapter will be coming soon! Thank you to everyone for reading my long drabble!


	10. Chapter 10

An overhead bell jangled loudly as they entered the establishment Jona had led them to, announcing their arrival. As Doflamingo ducked his head low to step inside, he noted a few heads glanced in their general direction. Mostly old geezers, their bearded faces a mixture of curiosity and distrust as their eyes evaluated him. When Jona stepped around him to enter, however, their features softened and they returned to their previous conversations.

"Welcome, y'all! Find a seat wherever!" a loud cheery voice called out. An incredibly tall and thin woman straightened from pouring a patron a cup of coffee. She was at least seven feet tall, with a hawkish nose and her long curly black hair pulled away from her face with a pink floral headband. She grinned widely.

"Jonnie! Hey! Go on and grab a spot by the counter. I'll be right over!"

"Hey Pink," Jona called back cheerfully. She glanced back at Doflamingo as she made her way towards the counter. "Come on, you should be able to fit on a stool better than in a booth."

He grunted noncommittaly and followed. The smell of hot coffee and breakfast foods - eggs, toast, sausages, waffles - tantalized his nose. His stomach grumbled loudly. As Jona sat down on one of the tall blue leather-topped stools, she caught the noise and eyed him

He ignored her pointed gaze and sat down, making sure to leave an empty seat between them. He propped his elbows up on the counter, settling his chin into an upturned hand. He eyed the wooden surface critically, swiping stray crumbs away. Why was everything on this island so damn filthy?

The tall woman, Pink, came around the opposite side of the counter, half-full coffee carafe in hand. She set down two laminated menus and short coffee mugs before them with practiced motions. As she filled them both to the brim with piping hot black coffee, she beamed at him, teeth like white chicklets.

"Can I get you any cream or sugar, hun?"

He chuckled at the nickname. "No. I've had enough sweetness this morning."

"Well!" She gasped good-naturedly. "We can't have that! The day hasn't even started yet."

She pulled out a small canister of sugar and a basket of individual creamers from a hidden shelf on the other side of the counter. Setting them before Doflamingo, she turned her attention to Jona. "What can I get you, Jonnie?"

Without even looking at the menu, Jona responded with, "Farmer's omlette with all the good stuff please."

Pink nodded and jotted down the order on a small pad of paper that she pulled from her apron pocket. She turned her bright gaze to Doflamingo again. "Do you need a couple minutes yet, hun?"

Doflamingo blinked down at the menu. He stared at it, not really seeing the words printed on the stained laminated cardstock. "I'll have what she's having."

"Alrighty then. That makes it easy!" Pink grinned as she quickly scribbled on the paper. She tore off the top sheet and whirled around. "Jacks! Got a couple incoming!

As the tall waitress and cook started talking, Doflamingo gingerly grasped the tiny coffee cup. He ignored the cream and sugar. Jona pulled the items towards her. She didn't look at him as she doctored up her drink.

Lifting his head, Doflamingo cast an evaluating glance around the diner's interior. Aside from Pink, the cook, Jona and himself, the rest of the patrons were all over the age of seventy. He caught a few of the old men watching him. But they turned away before their eyes could meet. As his gaze travelled over the scattered groups, something in an old man's hands arrested his inspection.

Doflamingo shot to his feet and rushed towards the man, seated several booths down from the counter. Every pair of eyes followed the sudden movement. When he reached the old man, Doflamingo forcibly plucked the newspaper from his feeble grasp. A surprised and angry shout followed him as he strode back to the counter. He returned to his seat, leaning forward into the folds of the paper, eyes frantically absorbing every line.

Suddenly the newspaper was snatched from his hands.

"Hey!" he roared.

Jona glared at him. She quickly bounded from her seat and, before he could stop her, returned the newspaper to the gapping old geezer. "I am so sorry."

A vein pulsed in Doflamingo's forehead. His fists clenched as he saw red.

The tomboy then strode towards the front door, where there stood a stand full of newspapers that he hadn't noticed before. She dropped a coin into the little collection bin on the top of the stand marked with a seagull logo and selected a paper. Stomping back towards the counter, she slapped the newspaper down in front of him, her freckled face stern. There was a slight blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

"Next time, just fucking ask," she muttered under her breath. She lifted the coffee cup to her lips and drankly deeply.

Doflamingo tsked in annoyance, swallowing his sudden flare of rage. He jerked his attention back to the paper before him as the noise of the diner slowly returned to a hushed din. His eyes scanned the front page. His fingers gripped the newsprint tighter as he read the date in the top corner.

"Three years," he breathed.

"What?" Jona asked, eyeing him warily.

"Nothing." His mind raced. Three years had passed since his defeat at Dressrosa. Three years of mind-numbing incarceration and torture. He grimaced. So much time - gone. Wasted. What had he missed?

By the time he'd finished reading half of the paper, their food arrived. Steam rose off the hot food - a large omlette covered in melted cheese and chopped green onions and bacon served on a bed of hashbrowns that covered the whole bottom of the huge plate. Doflamingo meerly glanced at the food despite his stomach's protesting.

Jona picked up her fork, thanking Pink as she shoveled some of the hashbrowns. Out of the corner of his eye, Doflamingo noticed her shiver with pleasure as she took a bite. She breathed, "So good!"

Doflamingo turned the page.

"Hey," Jona poked him in the arm with the tines of her fork. "Eat before it gets cold. Don't make me take that from you."

Swiveling on his seat, Doflamingo leaned down close to the woman's face, scant inches apart. Their noses almost touched. An ugly smile twisted his lips as he whispered in her ear. "You take this newspaper from me, and I'll break your spine over the counter.

"A little overdramatic, don't you think?" She brought a bite of omlette to her mouth, seemingly unfazed by the close proximity. She chewed thoughtfully. "Besides, only old men read the newspaper."

Doflamingo felt his brows twitch. He chuckled, low and deep. "Is that so?

Jona turned from him then, intent on the food in front of her. He watched her eat for a moment, straightening. Slowly, he returned his attention to the newspaper, carefully skimming the article he'd been reading before she interrupted. It recounted some goings-on at the relocated Fish Man Island.

_Huh,_ he thought. _So that actually happened._

"Seriously, are you going to eat that or not?"

"Will you leave me be, woman?" Doflamingo glanced down at Jona. Then he did a double-take. "Hey!"

Jona snatched away her fork quickly, ladden with a scoop of his omlette. Her plate was empty. There wasn't so much as a speck left. Popping the stolen food into her mouth, Jona gave him a devilish grin of her own.

"Snooze, you lose, grandpa," she chimed around the food.

"You are incredibly frustrating," Doflamingo muttered. He set the paper aside and pulled his plate closer protectively. "What are you, six?"

"I'm thirty-two, thank you very much." She straightened her spine as she spoke, that haughty demeanor returning. Pink walked around the other side of the counter, smiling and refilling their cups.

Picking up his fork, Doflamingo laughed. "Thirty-two, huh? That explains a few things."

"Such as?" Her question held a note of warning.

Doflamingo plowed right through it. He wasn't afraid of anyone, much less a bratty woman who'd never known anything outside of this small island. And he wanted to be cruel. Vent his frustration that had been building over the last three years.

"For starters, it explains why you live alone. You're a crazy spinster with nothing going for you. Who would want to be with someone who looks like a man?"

Pink looked at him sharply, mouth agape.

"Hmm," Jona settled her chin in her hand.

"Do you understand what I'm saying? You're ugly. Possibly the ugliest woman I've ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. You can't even comprehend just how inferior you are. You're nothing. Just like everyone else on this forsaken island," he scoffed. "Churlish, worthless, unwanted trash. A wasted existence."

A smile played on her lips. She swirled her coffee cup. "You're not entirely wrong about that. But what about you? I could say the same thing."

"Oh?"

Jona downed the remainder of her coffee. She held the empty cup out to Pink, who was chewing on her bottom lip but kept silent. As the tall woman poured more into the mug, Jona asked, "So how old are you, anyway, grandpa?"

Doflamingo glanced at the newspaper, chuckling at the subject change. "Forty-four, apparently."

"Apparently?" Pink looked at him in surprise. She whispered to Jona, "Did he not know that before? I heard he hit his head or something during that shipwreck."

Doflamingo rolled his eyes. Whoever started that rumor was going to pay dearly for it.

"What do you mean by that?" Jona asked, eyebrow lifted quizzically.

He flashed his teeth. "Time flies when you're incarcerated."

"So you are a criminal."

"You couldn't figure that out by the uniform?" He gave her a heavy side-eye glare. "Are you stupid?"

"I was more preoccupied with not letting someone die right in front of me, regardless of what they may have done."

A sneer crossed Doflamingo's features. _You'll live to regret that decision._

"So?" Jona asked into the brief silence. Her face was schooled into a semblance of boredom, but Doflamingo could easily pick out the glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Which prison?"

"Impel Down," he announced with a wide grin.

Pink took a step back. The tall woman's face went slack with fear. It was the reaction he'd expected. A normal reaction. Jona, however, acted unfazed by the information, but he caught the subtle jolt of her fingers.

"Really?" Her tone was heavy with disbelief.

"Yes," Doflamingo drug the word out slowly as he turned to glower at Pink. "And no one will breathe a word of it to any authority figures."

As Pink flinched under his gaze, Jona smacked his forearm. "Don't threaten her. No one is going to say anything."

Doflamingo's fingers twitched. A thought flashed through his mind: his hand wrapped around Jona's throat, squeezing until the life left her purple, bulging face. He clenched his hand into a fist. Staring at the bandages around his wrist, he muttered, "Oh? And how can you be so sure?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jona shrugged. "I've asked everyone not to."

"What kind of power do you have to ensure that?"

"Faith," Jona said simply. “I believe most people are good for their word.”

Doflamingo shook his head. These people were stupid. Absolutely, fool-heartily stupid. It made him sick.

"If you'd hurry up and eat, there's a couple places I'd like to take you." Jona pushed her empty mug towards Pink as if nothing were the matter. The woman robotically refilled the proffered mug and topped his off before moving away silently.

As he picked up his fork and began to eat, Doflamingo inquired, "And where do you plan on taking me? The port? The stockades, perhaps?"

"You truly are a delight." Jona leaned forward, placing two fingers on the newspaper laid out on the counter, nudging it closer to her. She inclined her head to inspect an article on the back page. "Figured we'd get some basics taken care of first, and I need to make a market run anyway."

"Basics?" Doflamingo repeated with his mouth full. He peeked at the article she was focused on.

_Vice Admiral Tsuru Readying For Retirement At Last?_

He choked.

There was a photograph of the skinny old broad below the header. Her wrinkled face was twisted into an annoyed scowl and she was turned slightly from the snail. One of her brutish female underlings blocked part of the foreground with their thick arm. Jona looked at him with slight concern, slim ginger eyebrow raised, as he roughly swallowed his food.

_There's no way,_ Doflamingo thought to himself. He eyed the photograph warily, searching for the lie behind the article. Tsuru wasn't _that_ old. She never seemed the type to retire - it was as bad as giving up and allowing pirates to run amuck, so far as she was concerned. Her behavior had convinced Doflamingo long ago that the only way she would ever quit the Marines was dying in the line of duty or from old age.

Jona's eyes slid down to Tsuru's picture. When they rose back up to Doflamingo's, there was an odd spark of recognition. She bit her lip and turned away, swirling her coffee. "The world sure is full of interesting people."

Doflamingo grunted noncommittaly. He ate in silence, watching Jona as she flipped through the newspaper. Her slim fingers lifted to the bill of her cap and readjusted it as she read. Doflamingo’s head swirled with what information he’d gleaned. But he had little to no context for some of the articles. Too much had happened. He needed to know everything.

When he cleaned his plate, Doflamingo stood, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Let’s get this over with, whatever you’re planning.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Jona warned. She pulled a beaten-up leather coin purse from her coat and withdrew a handful of Berry. Placing them on the counter, she picked up the newspaper and rolled it into a tight tube. She turned as she stood, holding it out to Doflamingo. “Here.”

He took it from her after a moment. Tucking it under his arm, he followed her to the door.

As the bell jangled, Pink called out to them. “Jona! This is too much for the bill!”

“Keep the change!” Jona shouted over her shoulder, practically running away.

They spent the remainder of the morning traipsing from shop to shop. Doflamingo was mildly surprised as Jona dragged him through the town, which seemed to be much bigger than he’d first guessed. There was a plethora of stores, selling everything from standard wares to specialty items crafted by ancient-looking geezers. The buildings looked to be in better shape than most of the houses he’d seen, but there were still garish flaws here and there. Cracked windows, leaning foundations, and chipped stonework plagued everything.

Jona took him to a clothing shop first, the wooden overhead sign reading _Goldie & Delico_. Inside, the front half of the shop was filled with stands of clothes - shirts, pants, dresses, hats, you name it, it was for sale. The back half appeared to be a dedicated workspace. There were three adjustable busts standing in the far corner, each fitted with a garment at different stages of completion. A figure stood in the center of the space, arms stuck straight out on either side, sweating as they tried not to move. Their pale face lit up when they saw them enter.

“Jona! Oh thank god,” the man breathed.

“Hold still, Delico! I’m not done yet!” A second figure jumped up from the ground, face flushed. The woman waggled a needle threateningly in the man’s face. He leaned his head back from the weapon, but otherwise didn’t move, grimacing.

“But Goldie,” he groaned. “There’s a customer…”

The woman jerked her head in their direction, long hair whirling in an arc as she did. They both had incredibly pale faces and hair. Their hair was so blond it was almost white.

“Jona!” Forgetting her hostage, the woman darted forward, arms extended. She embraced Jona in a tight hug, keeping the needle in her had held above her head as she squeezed.

Jona made a choking sound as she patted the smaller woman’s back. “Hi, Goldie. I brought you that project I was talking about last night.”

The pale woman, Goldie, immediately released Jona, who wheezed. She bounded up to Doflamingo, eyes wide. He held his ground despite her close proximity and took the opportunity to study her as she studied him. She didn’t seem to be any older than a teenager, with nonexistent breasts and huge pale eyes that seemed to be a milky yellow color. Her hair was the same shade, sparkling like ice in the refracted light from the nearby windows. She looked like a doll, dressed in a frill-collared dress and apron with so many pockets sewn on it that Doflamingo lost count of how many there were. Her tiny mouth quirked into a pout.

“The shirt seems fine, but he has wider shoulders than I expected. And I should have never let Delico talk me into giving you those pants, Jona. They’re so short it’s atrocious.”

“We didn’t have anything longer, Gold-“ Delico started to call from the back.

“Hush!” Goldie snapped. “And don’t you move until I stitch that seam!”

A strangled whimper sounded from the back.

“You,” Goldie drew a tape measure from one of the many pockets on her frilly apron. She began measuring Doflamingo’s legs, pulling the tape taut as she fluttered about him. “You have incredible proportions.”

“That’s a generous word for it,” Jona muttered.

Doflamingo smirked at her. “At least someone appreciates perfection.”

“Now, children,” Goldie tittered. She snatched at Doflamingo’s wrist and stretched first one arm out and then the other. Circling the tape around his abdomen, the woman said, “Don’t argue. It’s making you move. I need these measurements to be perfect if I’m expected to make you anything. I won’t have you parading around town in anything with my name on it that doesn’t fit to a T.”

Sighing, Jona crossed her arms. “Well we have a few more errands to run. If I promise not to let too many people see him, can we come back and pick everything up?”

Goldie stuck her tongue out at Jona. “Fine. But remember I have a reputation to maintain.” She glanced up at Doflamingo. “Arms, please!”

Crouching down carefully, Doflamingo extended his arms, allowing the small woman to measure his arms and the width of his wrists and biceps.

The woman giggled to herself. “Oh, I can’t wait to make formal wear for this one.”

Jona winced. “Nothing too extravagant, Goldie. I can’t afford a tux.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, fine. Shirts and pants. So boring.” She whispered into Doflamingo’s ear conspiratorially. “I’m still going to design one. She can just deal with it later.”

Doflamingo grinned. He liked this girl.

Jona sighed and headed towards the back of the shop, leaving Goldie alone to her work. Approaching the man who still stood motionless, she offered him a sad smile. “Poor Delico.”

“Please, Jona,” he begged. Tears of despair fell down his pale cheeks. “Please save me.”

“I value my life, thank you very much.”

“Goldie!” Delico shouted. “Please hurry! I’ve had to pee for the past three hours!”

“Don’t you dare soil that outfit or I swear I’ll stick you right in the eye with every single pin I own!”

Jona threw her head back as she laughed. Doflamingo watched her, throat tightening as Goldie abandoned her new project to save the one still attached to her brother. A laugh bubbled in his chest. He brushed the blond bangs from his eyes irritably.

“Do you have everything, Goldie?” Jona asked.

“For now. Come back in a couple hours.”

Jona smiled, quickly walking towards the front of the shop. “Thank you!”

Without waiting to see if he would follow, Jona exited the shop. Doflamingo trailed behind her, eyes boring into her backside.

Their next stop was a barber. Doflamingo raised an eyebrow as they entered. It was empty except for a few men idly chatting with the owner. The air smelled heavily of aftershave and beard oil. The men looked up jovially at first, then their friendly expressions wavered when they saw Doflamingo looming behind Jona. The owner stepped forward, wiping his hands with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder.

“What can I do for ya, Jonnie?”

Jona hooked a thumb back at Doflamingo. “Can you take care of him? Whatever he wants done.”

The man eyed Doflamingo warily. “Sure thing.”

“Great,” Jona beamed, handing him a few coins from her coin purse. She turned to look up at Doflamingo, pointing to the left side of the building. “The blacksmith’s is just down the street. I want to go say hi to Braeburn for a minute. If I’m not back in time, head down that way, okay?”

He didn’t respond as she brushed past him. The bell above the door jingled cheerily as she left.

The barber escorted Doflamingo to a chair. He settled down heavily in the well-worn cushioned seat. Throwing a cape over him, the barber asked in a gruff tone, “So what do you want?”

Doflamingo’s face twisted into a snarl at the mirror that took up the whole wall, leering at the barber and the men behind him. His reflection startled him. He looked so much like his deceased brother that it actually hurt. He grimaced and ground his teeth for a long moment, fingers twitching. “Short.”

“Short-short?” The barber asked. He fingered some of the feathery blond hair on the side of his head. “Or just short?”

“As short as possible without making me as bald as you.”

The man let out a good-natured laugh. He rubbed his chrome dome, smiling. “Give it time, lad. You’ll get to this point some day.”

_Over my dead damn body,_ Doflamingo thought, frowning, as the man pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Been awhile hasn't it? I'm so sorry! Life got in the way of this little fic... thanks to everyone who's been waiting for my busy ass to update!

The harsh scent of molten metal and heat and sweat made Doflamingo’s nose twitch as he approached the blacksmith’s. It was a tiny building set back from the road near the northern edge of town. Black smoke belched from a series of chimneys that poked through the low roof. A thatched awning stretched out into the street, a short counter encircling an open work area where people loitered, either purchasing an item or watching the profusely sweating men with rapt attention as they worked.

Doflamingo immediately caught sight of Jona’s figure leaning over the farthest end of the counter. As he stepped closer, giving the small crowd a wide berth, he realized that she was talking to someone. He recognized the bulging soot-covered forearms of the man who’d attacked him in front of the hospital. A sneer split his lips. The man - he couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, remember his name - was laughing at something Jona had said. But as soon as the man noticed Doflamingo sidling up behind her, the brutish face adopted a harsh mask. Jona turned, catching the sudden sourness, and nearly gasped when she turned to face him.

“Wow,” she murmured, fingers splayed over her lips. “That was a lot of hair.”

Doflamingo inclined his chin, leering down his nose at them. The breeze tickled along his scalp in a way he was no longer accustomed. He didn’t respond, instead he returned the glare that the grimy blacksmith was shooting his way.

“I’ll be back for that later, Braeburn,” Jona shot over her shoulder. She grabbed at the front of Doflamingo’s open shirt, clutching the fabric in a fist to tow him away from the shop.

Once they were a short distance away, Doflamingo jerked to a halt. The clothing wrenched from Jona’s grip and she stumbled backwards. He was beginning to get sick of being yanked around by this nobody.

“Now what?” he grumbled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“Now we keep shopping,” Jona replied. As she turned away, he heard her mutter, “Much to the pain of my wallet.”

The rest of the morning was spent wandering throughout the town, darting in and out of shops. After about an hour or so, Doflamingo began to wonder if the tomboy was simply using him as a pack mule, his arms becoming increasingly more bogged down with bags upon bags of groceries, cleaning supplies, odds and ends from a hardware store, even a bunch of yarn. He didn’t quite get that last one. She did force him into the cobbler’s once he started to complain, getting more and more irritated and vocal about tromping about the town carrying her shit in his ill-fitting hospital slippers. When they exited the shop, his feet clad in brand-new, custom tailored black flats with pointed toes, he felt marginally better. The soles were made of a soft yet springy material that conformed to the curves of his feet as he walked. It was almost like stepping on clouds. But he continued to complain loudly about carrying all of her crap. 

When they stopped before a very shady looking storefront with blacked out windows and a cracked doorframe, Jona made an exasperated noise.

“Can you _please_ shut up?” Her own arms were hoisting up several heavy bags, but Doflamingo didn’t care. He began sneer at her, but when she suddenly gasped, green eyes lighting up, Doflamingo jerked his head in the direction she was looking, dropping a few of the shopping bags. He couldn’t defend himself with his hands full.

“Yo,” greeted a despairingly thin man with bronze hair. He was crouched down beside the door, hammer in the hand that wasn’t saluting them. Iron nails protruded from the corner of his mouth. The man grinned warmly at Jona. But when his eyes slid towards Doflamingo, his expression soured.

“I didn’t know you were working here today, Crispin,” Jona remarked, readjusting her burden. She turned to glower at Doflamingo, her nose scrunching in annoyance. “Did you have to drop those?”

The man, Crispin, chuckled and stood. He was a good head and shoulders taller than Jona, which pissed Doflamingo off for some reason. Maybe it wasn’t so much the man’s height as it was the way he looked at the tomboy. Eyelids drooping slightly as she chattered away, crinkling at the edges. Mouth quirking at the corners into a warm, too-friendly smile as he tucked the hammer away into the tool belt hanging off his hips before relieving her of both heavy bags.

“I’ve got Mr. Pink’s wagon right now. Wheel fell off before he made it out of town on the way to work this morning. I can take this back home for you, if you were heading that way? Figure I can drop you off on the way up to the orchards.”

“Oh, thank you, Crispin but-“

“That would be very _sweet_ of you, _Crispin_ ,” Doflamingo cajoled. He stepped towards the smaller man and, before he could react, dumped his load of bags into the other man’s arms. Doflamingo cackled as Crispin struggled under the weight, throwing his head back to the sky.

“Joker!” Jona’s voice was sharp as she glared at him. She stepped towards the other man, raising her hands to help, but he stumbled out of reach.

“I got it, I got it, Jonnie.” Pale eyes glared at Doflamingo from beneath dark bronze fringe as he staggered off.

Waiting until after Crispin rounded the corner of the building, Jona whirled, face pinched. “You’re such an ass!”

Doflamingo gave her a Cheshire grin. Bending at the waist, he leveled his gaze with hers. He made sure to stroke his exposed gums with his tongue, gauging the her reaction. “I’m not your manservant, unlike that poor sap.”

Jona huffed, crossing her arms. Doflamingo didn’t miss the fact that she stepped back, putting some distance between them. “I’m going to go apologize. And then go back to Goldie’s. She should be finished with your clothes by now.” 

She jabbed a finger into his face. Which he playfully nipped at, teeth lightly clamping down around the final joint of her index finger. Doflamingo definitely noticed her tight swallow. He raised a brow and shuttered his eyelids, stroking the digit with the tip of his tongue. Jona flinched back, shaking her hand in the air wildly. She gestured at the building next to them before storming off after Crispin. 

“Just go in there and get started. And don’t worry, Dr. Sekigan has been working on the island for years. Everyone on the island goes to him if they have problems with their eyes.”

Taken aback, Doflamingo straightened. He studied the dilapidated building with bland interest. After a long moment, he commented, “If he’s the only option available, that’s not very reassuring.”

She glowered back at him. “Wow, you can take the greatest of compliments and twist it around to be something terrible.”

He shrugged, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s kept me alive this long.”

Before she disappeared around the corner, Jona paused to stick her tongue out at him. He blinked. Was she serious? What was she, a child?

xxx

Doflamingo stared up at the clear sky, tinged red from his new prescription shades. Lounging against a tree trunk not far from the dilapidated optometry clinic, he laced his fingers behind his head, listening to the soft breeze rustle through the golden canopy of leaves. 

He had been surprised at how quickly the backwater eye doctor had recognized his severe photophobia without much testing. Not to mention that he actually had the materials available to craft a new pair of glasses on the spot.

“This island may be down on its luck, but the people are resilient,” the incredibly nervous old man had sputtered. His hands shook terribly whenever he had to look Doflamingo in the eye. So, basically, throughout the entire visit. “There are still people left who do their best to make sure that we survive.”

This puzzled Doflamingo to no end. Because as soon as he raised his voice to question the old man about what he meant, he fainted from fright. He’d left the old man lying there on the floor in annoyance when he didn’t wake up right away. 

He was still breathing. 

It was fine.

The crunching sound of running feet approaching the row of buildings caught Doflamingo’s attention. Tilting his head down, he saw Jona jog up to the clinic. Her hand was on the doorknob before she noticed his large figure at the end of the lane. There was an obvious slump of her shoulders before she wandered closer, breath puffing into the chill air.

“Have a nice time with your boyfriend?”

Jona flinched. 

“Crispin and I aren’t together,” she said way too quickly. 

Doflamingo smirked. He’d struck a nerve. Interesting.

“You might want to tell him that sometime.” Rising to his feet slowly, Doflamingo rotated his neck, groaning with pleasure at the way the vertebrae popped.

“Nice shades.” Jona crossed her arms. “Are the red lenses really necessary? They look expensive.”

“Very.” He bent over, purposefully invading her personal space enough to cause Jona to raise her hands up as a defensive barrier. He could clearly see each individual freckle dotted across her nose. Every eyelash that fluttered against her skin as she blinked at him. “But it is a shame that he didn’t have the frames I prefer.”

Jona rolled her eyes and stepped backward. “I swear if you say anything about fashion, I’m going to scream. I just got done getting an earful from Goldie about all of that nonsense and don’t need to hear anymore.” As she spoke, she shoved a brown paper package at his chest. “Come on, there’s one last place I wanted to take you today.”

Turning on her heel and setting off, Doflamingo followed behind slowly, his long gait allowing him to keep up with her quick pace with ease. Hooking a finger beneath the single string that tied the package shut, he pulled until a portion of the paper gave way. He took in the various muted colored fabrics without much interest - it wasn’t like he could try them on in the middle of the street. None of them were patterned, anyway, so he resigned himself to his drab, yet hopefully temporary, new wardrobe and continued after Jona, tucking the package under his arm along with the newspaper.

xxx

It took nearly half an hour of brisk walking to reach their next destination. By then, Doflamingo was certain that they’d trekked at least three times the town’s length, and his feet were starting to kill him. He hadn’t needed to walk so far in so long that the experience of being up and about was finally losing its charm. He was still happy to be free of his chains, but without his Devil Fruit powers working properly, he still felt very much like a prisoner on this boring island, unable to leave when he wished. 

As they approached a large white-washed stone windmill, however, his interest piqued.

Settled on the south-east side of town, the building was perched on the edge of a wide field that abruptly gave way to a wall of trees on the opposite side. An enormous mass of red and gold leaves rose up into the gathering foothills of a few mountains located on what must be the center of the island. Three peaks towered above the rest, their white caps a stark contrast against the pure blue sky. 

The windmill itself wasn’t in working condition. Hadn’t been for a long time, given the swaths of green moss growing up the planks of ancient wood. It was perhaps one of the better looking buildings he’d seen thusfar, but not by much. Stones were missing here and there, thankfully not anywhere near the foundation as Jona approached the door and opened it, motioning for him to follow her inside. 

There was a smirk on her face that made him immediately wary. Leaning low to avoid banging his head against the doorframe, Doflamingo tensed reflexively. 

If previous experience had taught him anything, this was the moment when someone would try to ambush him.

Instead, as he slowly straightened upon clearing the doorway, Doflamingo blinked at the cavernous room.

Thick wooden shelves rose up to the vaulted ceiling of the huge open room against each wall. They were divided into square cubbies and, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, realized that each one was crammed full of rolled newspapers. There were deep bins with wheels attached to the legs scattered throughout the room in groups of four, filled with even more stacks of newspapers. The scent of old paper and dried ink wafted to Doflamingo’s nose. He inhaled deeply as he stepped further into the room past Jona. He felt as if he were in a trance, head swiveling to inspect every nook and cranny. There was paper everywhere.

“What the hell is this place?” Doflamingo asked, stepping closer to the nearest shelf. He craned his neck back to peer up at the shelves just beyond his reach.

There was a pleased sort of laugh before Jona responded. “Thought you might like it. We call it the Library.”

“I told you!” A sharp, aggravated voice rang out. 

Doflamingo whirled towards the sudden sound, fingers contorting reflexively, if uselessly. 

On the far side of the room, a doorway opened up to a spiral staircase that ascended up towards the tower of the windmill. A boy with a wild head of flaming red hair glared at Jona from the first step, fists clenched at his sides. 

“This isn’t a library! It’s my archive! And I told you to stop barging in here like you own the place, you hag!”

Ignoring the brat’s rudeness, Jona smiled at Doflamingo. “And this bundle of joy is Macintosh.”

The small red head shoved a finger up his nose, sneering at Jona. “It’s _Mac_ , you idiot. How many times do I have to tell you? Hey! Don’t touch that!”

Doflamingo, having grown immediately bored with the exchange, had turned around and began leafing through a stack of newspapers that were at eye level. He had enough time to notice that the stack was sorted by date before a pair of small fists began to whack against his hip. 

He glowered down at the red-headed shrimp as the boy attempted to beat him away from the shelves. The tiny fists pounding against his calf felt no more painful than a masseuse trying to work out a knot of muscle. 

Doflamingo picked up his leg and nudged the boy back with little effort. Knocked off-balance, he stumbled backwards into a heap. The kid couldn’t have been any older than ten.

“Back off, shrimp.”

“Don’t touch my stuff, you giant loser!”

Doflamingo grinned maliciously. The boy didn’t so much as flinch. He had to hand it to the kid, he wasn’t afraid of the ten foot tall man looming over him. But whether it was from bravery or stupidity was anyone’s guess.

“Mac! Don’t be a pest,” Jona appeared at Doflamingo’s side and scooped the child up. He struggled against her, but she only held him tighter against her chest, squeezing until his eyes began to bug out.

Craning his head to examine the contents of the room, Doflamingo brushed past the struggling pair. “Quite a collection you’ve got here. How far back does it go?”

Mac huffed indignantly, resigning himself to being stuck in Jona’s arms. “There’s a complete stretch from today back eight years ago. There are a bunch that are from way before that, but there’s a ton of gaps.” He sniffed loudly with self-importance. “I’ve been working on getting my hands on those, though.”

Doflamingo allowed himself to let out a low whistle. His shades glinted in the low light as he turned towards the boy. “So you have every paper, from every single day, even from three years ago?”

“Yeah. I just told you that it goes back eight years, idiot.” Mac’s eyes alighted on the newspaper in the crook of Doflamingo’s arm. He struggled with renewed fervor against Jona, who was forced to drop him. The boy scrambled towards Doflamingo, face a mask of eagerness as he jumped up and flailed in an attempt to snatch the newspaper. “Is that from today? Give it here!”

Jona pinched the bridge of her nose. “Would it kill you to say please?”

Doflamingo watched the kid jump for a few beats before smirking. “Tell you what, kid. I’ll give this to you, but you have to give me something in return.”

Mac stopped jumping, breathing hard from the pointless effort - there was no way a child who barely reached his thigh was going to take anything from him. “Like what?”

“Let me read whatever I want, and I’ll bring you the latest edition each day until I’ve had enough.”

Mac stared up at Doflamingo for a long moment. There was a light dusting of freckles on his cheekbones that framed dark, suspicious eyes. The kid glanced over his shoulder at Jona, who busied herself by readjusting her cap and meandered towards the stairs leading up to the tower.

“Fine. Deal,” Mac barked, turning back to Doflamingo. His expression took on an annoyed look as he reached a hand up expectantly. “It’s not like I can say no with her here, anyway.”

“Excellent,” Doflamingo drawled, bending over and extending the newspaper towards the boy. “Now, show me where I can find -“

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Jona interrupted.

The boy snatched the paper from Doflamingo’s hand and trotted away quickly. A growl rippled up his throat as he straightened just enough to find Jona’s oddly satisfied smirk standing before him. His fingers twitched.

Tilting her head, eyes sparkling, Jona’s smile softened. “This will keep you preoccupied while I go to back to work tomorrow. Let’s head back to my place. I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”

“Fine,” he muttered, his stomach rumbling loudly once he allowed himself to think about it. As he stalked towards the door, he noticed that Jona lingered for a moment despite her apparent desire to keep him from learning anything more from the treasure trove of knowledge surrounding them. He hovered next to the doorway, studying the woman as she watched the little boy ascend the rungs of a rolling ladder to a high up shelf with his latest prize. There was a tenderness in the way Jona stood there, with an almost wistful air about her before turning to leave.

They were well outside of the windmill before they heard a shout. 

Doflamingo turned as the little boy came running up behind them. Having slowed to walk behind Jona, Doflamingo was able to watch unhindered as Mac latched onto her jacket, burying his face into the thick denim. Jona stumbled at the sudden weight at her back. When she turned to find Mac as the culprit, she smiled and patted his red hair.

“What, now I get a hug?” she laughed good-naturedly.

The boy wrenched away at that and then stomped back to the windmill.

Doflamingo lifted an eyebrow at Jona. Her smile wavered before she seemed to remember that he was still there. Then she shrugged and continued on as if nothing had happened.


End file.
